An All New High
by Nine-Tailed Writer
Summary: Kurt's been messed up for most of his life, a fact that he isn't completely proud of, but can live with. Blaine's the new kid at McKinley and thinks he can change him - but when in Rome, you do as the Romans do. When Blaine finds himself deeper in the drug life than he'd expected, he realizes Kurt isn't the one that needs the saving. Skank!Kurt
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: profanities, smut (male x male, but why else would you be here if you didn't know this already), slight drug use**

* * *

**Chapter One  
**

The room was filled with a thick smoke that clouded the lights above. Purple, red and green sofas with plush velvet cushions were placed in a circle, surrounding the mass of naked, writhing bodies on the floor. The walls were painted a dark blue and the floor was covered in red solo cups, used condoms and cigarette butts. The volume of the stereo blasting ear-deafening punk music leveled with the cries and moans and screams of pleasure drifting up from the ongoing orgy. The perfume-scented candles barely masked the scent of sex.

The different cliques had already separated. In one corner was the group of smokers, standing up and passing around rolled-up weed to each other, snorting coke out of their hands or tying bandages around their arms to make their veins pop, barely wincing as the needle entered. In another was the group of alcoholics who were competing against each other of who could take the most shots, drink the most bottles and then pass out in a pool of vomit and piss first. Empty beer bottles littered the floor around their feet, some broken, and the men and women alike were either half-falling off their chairs at the bar or were already on the ground out cold. The third corner was taken up by the couples proudly displaying their affection on the floor, up against the wall or on the tables. Those were the ones too afraid to join the orgy but felt enough confidence to put on their own shows.

Kurt's clique was the gamblers.

There were different times when he would partake in the other groups, but not tonight. Instead he was leaning over a pool table, at eye level with an eight ball and trying to get the perfect position with his stick. A half-finished cigarette hung between his lips and from the corner of his eye he could see another smoker leaning up against the wall staring at his ass.

Kurt smirked then shot at the ball. Nine-ball was always easy for him and the cries of distress that came up from his fellow competitors when he pocketed the ball were very satisfying. He rose up from the table, laid down his stick and grinned triumphantly at the players. He glanced over his shoulder at his admirer. Dressed in a green Linkin Park tee and pencil jeans, the man winked at Kurt. From afar, he wasn't half bad.

"Time to pay up, fellas," Kurt announced. He walked around to each competitor to collect his fifty dollars, double checking as he went. When he was finished, he pocketed the cash, thanked them for doing business with him then turned to walk away-

-and collided with a tall, hard body. Kurt looked up into the face of the guy who was checking him out. He was all angles and sharp jaw, not his type but the stubble on his chin gave him a sexy, hewn look. His face was a myriad of colors from the pulsing, strobe lights above so Kurt couldn't tell if he was a brunette or a blonde with highlights.

"Hey," he said with a deep voice. "I'm Jacob."

"Adrian," Kurt replied. It was never good to give out his name to random strangers he met at The Rig. Anyone and everyone with an ID (or a fake one, as was his case) could get in and recently serial killers and rapists were on the loose. He didn't need a mental case looking him up and tracing him home and further ruining his already upside-down life. Plus, he was still in high school. He couldn't afford to get suspended because of an insane lover following him to school and deciding to bomb the fucking place because he got rejected. With the rate the Internet was going at he wouldn't be surprised if with a few clicks someone could find his address.

"Wanna go join them?" Jacob nudged his head in the direction of the sex circle.

Kurt grimaced. The circle was for brave, ludicrous people who weren't afraid of contracting STDs or were too drunk to think reasonably. "How about we take a couch instead?"

Jacob shrugged and threw his cigarette on the ground then mashed it with his boot. Kurt took his hand and sauntered over to one of the chaises. He pulled Jacob's tee up and over his head to reveal a lightly-muscled body and a dark treasure trail. He made quick work of Jacob's pants, the mad desire beginning to overtake his body. He ran his hands over Jacob's chest and retraced the path with wet kisses, his eyes locked on Jacob's face. He hissed in surprise when Kurt bit one of his nipples. His kisses trailed lower until he was on his knees, his tongue following the treasure trail.

His fingers shook as he unbuttoned the jeans and pulled them down then dropped Jacob's underwear along with it, his erection springing free.

"Are you a virgin?" Kurt asked, looking up into Jacob's dark eyes. The boy nodded, the lust in his eyes barely contained. Kurt felt emboldened by that move, suddenly empowered knowing that someone wanted him and thought he was sexy enough to fuck. It fed his ego little by little.

Jacob pushed Kurt's head down and he eagerly took the tip into his mouth, swallowing the bit of pre-come that had gathered there. He took half of Jacob's length in his mouth, swirling his tongue and biting lightly as he pulled back. Jacob moaned loudly and grinned when Kurt pulled up with a _pop_. He licked his lips and stuck out his tongue to lick a sensuous path back up Jacob's chest. Kurt latched onto his neck and sucked and bit until he left a red mark.

Jacob tugged at Kurt's head to look up at him, smiling. "You're really good at this, aren't you?" Kurt nodded and kissed him lightly on the lips, pulling back when Jacob wanted more. Kissing was too intimate for Kurt because it felt like giving a secret part of himself away to someone, worse yet a random stranger. It didn't hurt to give a little taste, though.

Instead he took Jacob's hands in his and directed them to his top. Jacob hastily yanked Kurt's tee off and deftly made work of his pants. Hot, suckling kisses trailed fire across his chest, a heat that was increasingly becoming uncomfortable and needed to be taken care of. He spun Jacob around and pushed him onto the couch then straddled him. Jacob's eyes were bright and he was breathing heavily, the desire for Kurt rolling off of him in waves and making Kurt feel so _alive_. The heat started at the base of his spine, flowed through his body then into his cock. He stroked his cock to get himself harder faster. A bottle of lube and a bowl of colorful condoms were conveniently placed on a nightstand next to the chaise. Kurt took a condom, ripped it open with his teeth and slid the condom on Jacob's cock.

He popped the lube bottle open and spread them on Jacob's fingers. Jacob gave him a confused look and Kurt had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "You have to stretch me first." His mouth formed a small O then his fingers found their way to Kurt's ass. He hissed as one finger slid into him, then another and finally a third. Jacob's fingers were stiff and he didn't stretch him properly but he was new at this so it had to do. Kurt pulled his fingers out and rose up on his knees over Jacob's cock.

"Hold on," Jacob said breathily. "Turn around for me. I wanna see myself in you." Kurt thought this incredibly sexy so he keenly turned around, bent over with his hands resting on Jacob's knees and his ass tilted up. Jacob positioned his cock at Kurt's entrance, grabbed his hips and slowly lowered him onto it. "Oh fuck yeah," Jacob hissed. Kurt bit his lip as Jacob entered him, wincing at the slightly painful intrusion but pushing his ass lower all the same. When he was seated fully, Kurt rolled his hips to get accustomed to the size. Jacob groaned loudly and his fingers gripped Kurt's hips tighter. They were definitely leaving marks.

Kurt allowed Jacob to set the pace, bouncing his ass up and down slowly at first on his cock. From the muttered words that came from his lips, Kurt knew he was admiring the view of his ass swallowing his cock from the back. He made an extra show of rolling his hips and was rewarded with a heady laugh and an "Oh fuck, do that again".

They eventually sped up with instinct; Kurt meeting Jason's every frenzied thrust with his own until he was crying out in heated fervor and Jacob's cries matched his own. In half a dozen more thrusts, Kurt climaxed and exploded in hot spurts of semen, all over the chaise and some on Jacob's legs. Jacob came soon after too, shouting Kurt's fake name and pulled him down as deep as he could go. Strong arms wrapped around Kurt's middle and pulled him back to a shaking, warm chest.

Jacob planted lazy kisses along his jaw and neck, rolling his hips with his body still shuddering from the climax. "That was amazing," he whispered in Kurt's ears. "_You_ were amazing."

Kurt giggled. This was the shit that he liked and craved every single day; and these were the fuckers that motivated his one night stands. He allowed Jacob a three-second cuddle before removing his arms and crawling off his lap.

"Leaving so soon, Adrian?" Jacob asked innocently.

"Yeah. I have to wake up early tomorrow morning to get to school."

Jacob's eyes widened. "Wait, you're not in high school are you?"

Kurt shut his lips tight and summoned the correct words so he wouldn't stutter and give Jacob an even better reason to be suspicious. "I'm talking about college. I have Psychology classes at 9am at OSU."

"Oh really?" Jacob asked excitedly. "Believe it or not, I go there too! I'm just visiting some family here in Lima and then I'm heading back to Columbus next week." Ok, pretty-boy was getting way too excited and Kurt wanted to end the lies here and now. "What brings you to Lima?"

He hadn't thought up a quick enough lie for that question and his speech faltered. "Um…I'm…a…just visiting some friends." He smiled forcefully. "I grew up in Lima, is what."

Jacob remained silent for a while, sizing Kurt up. Kurt put on his tee and swept back his hair. "Maybe I'll see you around OSU?"

"I'm dropping out actually," he said hastily.

Jacob shook his head in understanding. "School just isn't for you?" Kurt nodded, wishing he could do the same for high school. "Can I get your number, then?"

Kurt paused in the middle of putting on his Converse. Damn, he was an obstinate one. He stared at Jacob's naked form in contrast to his clothed body, and Jacob's hopeful eyes. Kurt crushed that hope like an ant. "Sorry, I don't give my number to strangers."

He pulled the knot on his shoe, picked up his satchel and left a crestfallen Jacob on the chaise. It hurt him a little and he had second thoughts about going over and apologizing…but that would only ruin his exit and his pride. He held his chin up and strutted away.

He suddenly remembered that he had to get some supplies so he headed over to the smoker's corner. None of them paid him any attention, too taken up floating on cloud nine. He walked over to their leader, a tall, slim Asian guy with spiky dark blue hair and an eyebrow piercing. On his forearm was a tattoo of a bulldog that winked whenever he flexed his biceps. He was busy necking a girl, the end of his bud touching her clothes without him knowing and slowly burning a hole through the fabric. His free hand was up her shirt, fondling her breasts. Kurt tapped him on the shoulder and Mike slowly peeled his tongue off the girl's neck. They called him Snake because of how strangely long his tongue was and of course the girls had a different name for him.

"What?" he growled. He pinched the girl's nipple and she squealed in surprise, but the reaction made Mike's arm jerk and the end of the cigarette touched and burned her skin. She cried out, slapped Mike's hand away then inspected the damage done.

"Look what you did!" she screamed, pointing to the hole in her top. It was pink, made of a sheer see-through material with two strips of cloth to the bottom that tied above her stomach. She was another Asian and had two navel rings. Kurt knew her but forgot her name. Trina or something. "This was my favorite top!" Mike rolled his eyes and faced Kurt.

"I don't have any more snow," Kurt said. "How much?"

Mike grinned. "One hundred a gram."

"Fuck you Mike!" Kurt spat. "Last time it was eighty a gram!"

The man shrugged. "Business is business, babe. When it starts to get harder to get, the price always goes up." Kurt let out a stream of curses but still reached into his back pocket and pulled out three Benjamins. He handed it to Mike who retreated into the sea of smokers to get it. The girl stayed there and kept staring at him.

"Fuck off," Kurt grumbled but she only smiled.

"Don't you go to McKinley?" she asked coyly. _Fuck, fuck fuck!_ He didn't think other people from his same high school even bothered with The Rig and the only people who knew about it, as far as he guessed, were his friends who he hung with every day. It was highly suspected that McKinley students were too dumb (or coward) to come to such a place where police raids happened every other day, and preferred to go to a local bar or pub instead. Mike was the only exception, but not this girl too.

That's when he remembered her name. Tina Cohen-Chang, no relation to Mike Chang. "Well, do you?"

Thankfully, at that moment Mike returned with a brown paper bag in his hand. Kurt took it and placed it in his satchel. "Thanks," he said, then added, "And try not to raise the price again the next time."

Mike laughed at him but never promised to do anything.

On the way out Kurt grabbed a beer and lit another cigarette, then exited through the back door that lead into a dark, damp alleyway. The cold air hit his face and raised the goose bumps on his arm. The air was damp and reeked of pee and dog shit but it was better than the suffocating smoke inside.

After looking both ways, he headed out into the street with a limp. Chair sex was always painful but the pain mixed in with the pleasure was good sometimes. He made sure his money was still in his pocket as well as his cellphone. Pickpockets were famous in there. The streets were deserted at 2am save for an occasional car. The streetlights flickered on and off and the howl of the wind was the only thing to break the silence.

It took him ten minutes to get to his apartment complex and by that time he was breathing heavily and had a sudden deep hunger. He lived on the third floor and had a nice enough view of the rest of the buildings for a couple more miles. It was a one room apartment with a small kitchen, small living room and an even smaller bedroom and bath. The rent was $200 a month and the living conditions were acceptable, except for the times when there was no water or the toilet backed up, or the random cockroach decided to scurry across the floor.

He fumbled with the key in the lock as his palms had begun to dampen. Cold sweat broke out above his brow and trickled down his nose. He wiped it away impatiently. Shit, he needed to get inside and do this fast. The door finally opened and he stumbled inside, hurriedly kicking the door shut. He raced to his room, locked the door then opened the brown bag to see a clear plastic bag inside. A sigh of relief escaped him. The white powder was always a comforting sight. He untied the bag, poured out some onto his nightstand then took out a clipped straw from his drawer.

He pinched one nostril and snorted then did it for the next nostril. His body instantly filled with a rush of energy and adrenaline. Kurt fell back on the bed, his eyes rolling back into his head from the high; his body slightly twitching as it overcame his senses. The world burst into eye-blinding lights of dancing colors. He heard himself laugh out loud, or maybe it was someone outside. Nothing mattered anymore. He wasn't on cloud nine, fuck he was on cloud eleven! It was fucking fantastic.

After forty-five minutes he floated back down, but not completely. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a weed brownie. He bit into it then started taking off his clothes. Weed always helped to bring him down from the high, in case he did anything irrational. It slowed down his racing heart and relaxed the nerves that were on end.

He showered then changed into a worn tee and a pair of boxers. He shuffled to the kitchen, opening his cupboard and deflated. He only had half a box of cereal remaining. He made a mental note to buy food in the grocery tomorrow. He had one couch, a ten inch TV (cable was an extra $200, money that Kurt didn't have) and a single bed. His kitchenware was pathetic but he had no visitors anyways. Only his uncle Peter lived with him and that was because he was underage. Kurt sighed in relief at the man's heart-lifting absence and that he was away from the belittling gaze.

After he ate, he felt his brain beginning to shut down to allow him sleep. It was probably two to three hours after when he was knocked out on the couch. The next day was Sunday anyways and he was glad for the respite.

* * *

McKinley high was thirty minutes away from where Kurt lived. He was forced to take the bus as he didn't have a car and his friends lived too far away to pick him up and reach to school on time, unless they were willing to wake up at 5am. He always sat in the single seat so he could lean his head up against the window and listen to his music without disturbance. Not like if anyone wanted to sit next to him anyways. A person with three piercings in each ear, one in his left brow and dressed in all black wasn't exactly the meaning of the word approachable.

His favorite part of school was getting the time to hang out with the Skanks. His first stop was in the morning underneath the bleachers where three of them had already arrived. There was Quinn, Sheila and Ronnie and all of them were dressed in dark colors. Kurt was in a fitted black tee and dark jeans with chains tucked into combat boots. He smiled when he saw his companions and eagerly took the offered rolled up weed. Quinn lit him up.

"Sorry I couldn't make it to The Rig last night," Quinn said. "My parents actually caught me sneaking out."

Kurt took a long drag of his bud. "It's okay. I won $350 playing pool and ended up fucking a virgin." The Skanks all laughed at that. "I'm gonna buy those ripped jeans we saw in the mall."

Quinn eyed him warily. "And what about rent?" she asked. She leaned up against the pole supporting the bleachers. "You remember what happened the last time when you didn't pay on time?" Kurt cringed, the memory all too clear. He was low on cash and desperate times had called for desperate measures. Using the only thing he knew would get him quick money, Kurt had sold his body to the owner of the complex.

"Don't worry. I already have the money saved up. I'm not taking that risk ever again." The owner had demanded an entire day with Kurt's body to use whenever and wherever to his liking. At the end of the day Kurt had to half-limp, half-crawl back to his apartment, crying so hard snot was running down his nose with purple marks and red hickeys all over his body and a mixture of cum and blood staining his underwear.

He had called Quinn in hysterics, so damn afraid that he had contracted an incurable STD. Six painstaking months later he had taken the test and the results came back negative, but the trauma it caused had him doing regular checkups ever since then. He and the owner had never exchanged words once after that but Kurt always felt the skeleton hands, the cold lips and the skin-crawling tongue over his body in his nightmares. The way the owner's cock felt in him was never far from his mind either - the way he was pounded into, every thrust causing a rack of pain sent through his body, the blood smeared on his thighs...

"Stop thinking about it," Sheila said gruffly, patting him on the head. Kurt was never a huge fan of physical contact except for when it came to fifteen minute sex and they all knew that. He sat down on the Sue-provided couch and took several soothing drags of smoke. He could feel his muscles relaxing and the tension in his body disappearing. Wasn't weed legal in Ohio yet?

"Time to go bitches!" a voice yelled in alarm. The Mack was racing towards them. "Teacher coming around the corner." She sped away and the others followed. Kurt tried to get up but his head was still fogged. Quinn hauled him up from the couch and pulled him along. They ducked through the bleachers, raced across the football field, laughing and screaming, and back into the school. By the entrance they slowed to catch their breath and let out the last few laughs.

"I bet you bitches love me right now," The Mack declared breathlessly.

"You had really good timing, is all," Ronnie said. By this time Kurt was feeling better but unfortunately his weed roll had fallen out of his hand on his escape. He straightened up and looked down the crowded hallway, the lockers lined on either side. He felt the eyes following the group of heavily-breathing Skanks too but enjoyed the attention, even though they were negative. He was never going to fit in with them anyways and he didn't feel the need. He only felt like a black and white movie trying to match one with full-color. In the end, who would want such a boring, used thing anyways? Only the Skanks, apparently.

The bell's ring cracked open his skull. They were standing right beneath it so it took some seconds for the ringing to stop bouncing through his head.

"My streaks are starting to come out," Kurt said, pointing at his fading pink streaks. "Dye it at lunch?"

"Imma dye it for you babe," Sheila answered and he smiled.

"Oh and have you seen Bob lately?" he directed at Quinn. The Skanks couldn't hide their grins.

"I'll hook you up after school," Quinn replied, looking about cautiously for listeners. "Meet me tomorrow in the shed down the street." They all parted silently.

Kurt walked hurriedly to his locker, a million thoughts racing through his head. He had AP French first period and he had a feeling that the teacher would drop a pop quiz. Mondays were Ms. Wilson's favorite day for pop quizzes.

He collected his books and slammed his locker shut. About three lockers down he saw another sole figure packing his books. His brown hair was side-parted and slicked down with gel. He wore a checkered vest over a blue shirt with a small brown bow-tie and dark above-the-ankle pants. The boy looked up and to the left and their eyes met. He had kind brown eyes and he offered Kurt a hesitant smile.

_Probably a new kid _Kurt surmised. He looked the new kid over one last time and didn't like what he saw. He was one of _them_. With a sneer, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked off in the other direction to his class.

"You're late," Ms Wilson said angrily when he walked in.

"I know," Kurt replied and took his usual seat next to Azimio. He was looking forward to cursing and insulting the huge football player so bad that he'd put sailors to shame, especially because he was in a sour mood. For what, he didn't know (it was probably the weed...) but at least he had the opportunity to take out his anger on someone.

The morning continued and as usual, he sat with the Skanks at lunch after having his streaks put in. He had chosen a brighter shade of pink and loved the staring spectators when he walked down the hall. He caught a sight of the new kid coming in and taking a seat at the table where all the Glee members sat.

"Another converted loser," Ronnie drawled. "Great job Glee. I actually thought he was kind of cute." Kurt stared at Blaine for a while. He was kind of good-looking in an innocent school boy sort of way - the kind that had huge dreams waiting to be crushed. He definitely smiled a lot and that bow-tie was a really bad choice.

"Who is he?" he asked.

"His name is Blaine Anderson," Quinn said. "He's a transfer student from Dalton's. No idea why he'd come from a prestige private school like that to a dump like McKinley, but his daddy's Antonio Anderson." She delicately chewed at a celery stick

"The owner of that big shot law firm?" Sheila asked with her mouth full of mashed potatoes and Quinn nodded. "That's a lotta money to be wasting here. We could definitely use a guy like him with all that cash."

"Do you think we can turn him?" Ronnie inquired with a sly grin. She was always the ever eager one trying to recruit new Skank members. Her attempts had always been unsuccessful but she was persistent. "I won't mind trying."

Quinn who was the leader by an unspoken agreement shook her head. "He looks kind of gay, don't you think?" All eyes fell on Kurt.

He sighed. "My gaydar didn't really go off but now that you mentioned it, the way he dresses and that hair kinda signals something."

"Then we'll send Kurt off," The Mack spoke up after gobbling down a portion of fries. "Everyone has the potential to be gay and he doesn't seem to be the homophobic type." She raised a brow at him. "Or is he too innocent for you, babe?"

His face held no expression. "I could take him." From the few glances Kurt spared him, Blaine had seemed naive and oblivious enough on the surface. He had to hope that the Glee members had underestimated the Skanks recruiting missions and hadn't informed the new kid about their position on the social board of McKinley - the very bottom. But of course Kurt had no problem dragging people down with him. And he knew just the way how.

"I already have a plan." His smile was no short from devious.


	2. Chapter 2

******Warnings: drug use and physical abuse**  


* * *

**Chapter Two**

While walking down the hall, the stares and open mouths were to be expected. Kurt appreciated them, used them as fuel for his mission because it was more important than what they thought at the moment. His eyes scanned the lockers and locked onto his target.

"Hello," Kurt greeted as Blaine closed his locker. He held out his hand. "Kurt Hummel."

Blaine looked around confused before taking the offered hand. "B-"

"Blaine Anderson, I know." Kurt smiled brightly, his cheeks already aching from the effort. "I heard that you're the new kid." For this mission Kurt had taken out his piercings and tried a little color - instead of a black shirt he wore a blue tee with a Plain White T's monogram. He hid his streaks with a black beanie hat.

"Um, yeah," he said. "I'm in tenth grade."

"Aw." Kurt pouted. "I'm in eleventh grade but that doesn't matter. I love your sweater, by the way." Kurt knew he had said the right thing when Blaine's face lit up. He looked down at his blue and purple plaid sweater vest and fingered it.

"Thanks. Not a lot of people are into them."

"I know. I personally think sweater vests can never go out of style." In his head Kurt was gagging, hating the very color of it but his smile was unmoving. "What class do you have next?"

"Literature with Mr. Warden." Kurt didn't miss the one-second look of disappointment.

He made a face. "Balding, baggy clothes, talks as though he's teaching kindergarteners?"

Blaine nodded. "I don't mean to sound mean but he's boring as hell." Kurt would have said boring as fuck but Blaine was too nice for that.

"Trust me - no one likes Mr. Warden and on top of his monotony he marks really hardly. The best thing to do is warm up to him and he'd give you an extra mark, two if you're lucky."

Blaine laughed lightly then looked down the quickly clearing hallway. "Did bell ring or something?"

"Nah. The bell rings late sometimes. But that's not important." He turned Blaine's face to his, his fingers on the boy's jaw. Blaine's eyes widened, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Can I take you out this afternoon? Maybe for coffee? I know a cute little coffee shop whose lattes are _to die for_."

The brunette grinned showing all teeth and Kurt was caught unexpected at how adorable he looked then even with the gelled hair and the ugly clothes. "Sure. Coffee sounds great."

"Awesome. Can I get your number?" Blaine pulled out his phone and Kurt typed in his number then sent a text to his phone so he could get Blaine's. The bell rang just then. "Meet me in the parking lot at three."

He turned to leave but stopped. "One more thing." He clucked his tongue. "Don't mean to sound rude but...you're paying." He winked then with a little wave, left Blaine blushing and slightly awed.

Part one of his plan had been initiated.

During AP Biology Mrs. Conner had decided to ask him a question on their topic. He was in a good mood and it fed his ego even more when he answered correctly. Mrs. Conner had turned back to the board with a grim look since she had expected him not to know anything at all considering that he doodled throughout most of her classes. Although he didn't look it, Kurt had finished the Biology scheme of work a week ago so this was like revision for him.

At lunch he bragged about his success with Blaine and to prove it, he waved over at the boy who returned it shyly. All four of the Skanks had gaped at him and after barraged him with questions of how, when and where he did it. He had answered all with dramatic flair then they had begged him to tell them what part two was. Much to their chagrin, he told them it was a secret.

"Kurt isn't the only one who could recruit, yanno," Ronnie said haughtily. Kurt had noticed her increasing distress at how much of the attention was placed on him. He had ignored it until then.

"Sure Ronnie," The Mack said. "I think I'll try my hand at recruiting too. I'm thinking Mark from the choir since I dated him two summers ago." Everyone laughed except for Ronnie whose scowl was about to become permanent.

After they ate they retired to the bleachers, smoked some cigarettes and then left for their classes. The Skanks were hitting The Rig that afternoon and mocked him as he was being left all alone with a virgin schoolboy. Kurt had rolled his eyes, flipped them the finger and then left to go into the car park.

He opened Quinn's car and hopped in. She had lent it to him on this special occasion and was willing to take the bus in his place. He texted Blaine.

_I'm in a blue Sedan._

Blaine replied seconds after. _Seeing you. _A knock on the window and Kurt opened the door, plastering on a smile.

"Hey," Blaine said then closed the door. He flung his satchel into the backseat.

"Hi," Kurt said. "Ready to go?"

"Let's go."

He started the engine and it took fifteen minutes to get to the Lima Bean. It was a small, wooden coffee store with a fading sign for its name and doors that always gave trouble, especially as the sign said push when you had to pull - but it was the only one in the whole of Lima, Ohio that sold fresh pastries. The coffee wasn't spectacular but it was good enough.

On the way in, Kurt opened the door for Blaine to enter before him. The circular wooden tables were placed at random locations around the room. On the right side was the ordering counter and a door in the back led into the kitchen. Kurt had been there once after coaxing one of the workers to give him a peek. They had been making out on top of a counter when his boss entered. Kurt had been warned never to come back to the Lima Bean ever again and the guy was fired. Of course he came back and all the boss could do was glare daggers at him from the sidelines because his store was still getting his money.

The brunette blushed at his chivalry. He was rather easy to play, Kurt thought. A little compliment here, a little gentlemanly act there and Kurt had him won over. Things were going easier than he expected. Blaine ordered a medium drip and Kurt his usual non-fat mocha. He stored to memory Blaine's order so he could impress him the next time they came here. They took a seat at a table with two chairs in the center of the store and started their drinks. Blaine had ordered two plain donuts and he took a bagel. He wasn't paying for it anyways.

Kurt started the conversation. "So Blaine, rumor has it that you transferred from Dalton Academy."

"Yeah I did," Blaine answered with a sad smile.

"What was it like there?" Kurt asked. He sipped his drink. "I've never been to a private school before."

"It was amazing," Blaine said, his eyes clouding over in reminiscence. "I felt a lot like home there. The people were great, the school was beautiful and even the teachers were spectacular." Kurt was confused. If the school was so spectacular, why did Blaine even leave? He asked the question and Blaine's smile faltered. "My dad thought that I was getting too comfortable with the easy life and he wanted me to get a taste of the real world."

Harsh. "That's awful!" Kurt empathized. He knew what it was like to be living like a king on a golden throne and then to be snatched cruelly out of your comfort zone and left to fend for yourself. That was how he felt when he heard the news of his parents.

Blaine merely shrugged, but Kurt could see the deeper pain hidden in the lines on his forehead and the furrow of his brows. Those eyebrows that were strangely shaped like scalene triangles... "It was a hassle between here and St. Jefferson's but my parents were voting for McKinley. Kind of had no choice." He laughed bitterly and tore into his second donut.

"Your parents sound kind of controlling," Kurt muttered.

"Yours aren't?" Blaine asked. It was supposed to be a joke but the words hit him hard and deep.

"My parents died ten years ago, when I was seven." Suddenly it became harder to swallow past the lump that formed in his throat. His eyes started to prick but he swallowed a mouthful of mocha, the pain from the heat distracting him from his sorrow.

"I'm so-" Blaine began but Kurt held up his hand. He hated when people pitied him because it reminded him too much of the reason why it was done. It wasn't as though they understood anyways, and try as they might, no one would know the trauma and mental implications he went through at that age. No one could ever fathom the pain, the psychological defiance that his parents had simply gone to work and were coming home late. Ten years late.

Blaine had begun to become increasingly worried at Kurt's silence and was surprised when he smiled again, as though he was a robot whose battery had just died and were eventually replaced. "So what are your interests, Blaine?" Changing the topic was always good.

The brunet caught on and finally answered. "Music. I like music a lot." He grinned. "That's why I joined the Glee club even though people have told me its social suicide."

"That's great," he said, forcing a smile. He was still hurting. "I'm a bit of a fan of music myself. Have you ever seen the musical _Wicked_?"

"Well we can't all come and go by bubble!" Blaine quoted and Kurt laughed, and it wasn't a fake one. It felt good to talk about music, sometimes, something that the Skanks detested and Kurt had learned by trial and error. It was true that he had to pretend around them, but it wasn't hard to do it. It had become a part of him to be drab and boring and only talk about who to fuck or what to smoke. "I saw it three times already on Broadway."

"Never been to Broadway," Kurt said dismally. He sipped his drink.

"Maybe I can take you some day?" Blaine said with a raise of his brow.

Kurt twirled the straw between his lips. Blaine was actually flirting with him. "I'd like that."

Blaine finished off his second donut and was about to talk when the coffee store door chimed open. A tall, lanky boy dressed in a Dalton Academy uniform entered with short blonde hair and a smug look on his slim face. His eyes scanned the room and when they fell on Kurt and Blaine's table, the boy's grin turned feral.

He stalked over towards them, puffed up with pheromones. "Hello, Blaine. How's it going?"

"Sebastian," Blaine said, his lips drawn in a tight line. "I'm fine, thank you. What are you doing here? I thought you hated coffee."

Sebastian spared Kurt a glance and winked. "I'm guessing you're on a date. I'm surprised you've recovered that quickly to be with someone again."

"Kurt," he said loudly. "Kurt Hummel. Nice to meet you, Sebastian. You and Blaine had a close friendship at Dalton?"

Sebastian chuckled. "Oh, it was more than a friendship but I won't ruin the story for you when Blaine here himself could tell you." He stared at Blaine who had his head down and was fiddling with his fingers in his lap.

"Maybe some other time," Kurt said quickly, sensing Blaine's distress. It wouldn't do good to have an upset date added to his plan. "You could go now."

The blonde boy had a moment of surprise at the dismissal but followed up with a leer. "Nice seeing you again, Blaine. Call me sometime." He touched Blaine's cheek. "By the way," he turned to Kurt, "aren't you in that group with the pretty blonde chick. The Sluts, I think?"

"Fuck you," Kurt spat then regretted it when he saw Blaine's jaw drop. _Shit_. His facade was breaking already.

Sebastian laughed like if he knew it would happen. "Feisty one you got there, Blaine. Better watch him." With that he turned and left. Kurt wondered if Sebastian knew that Blaine was going to be here today. His walk was bold, the tilt to his shoulders assured as he left the store, like if he had just accomplished something no one else could.

"Isn't he a prick…" Kurt bit into his bagel angrily.

Several counts of silence passed with Blaine toying with the last bit of his donut on the plate, or sometimes sipping bits of the coffee he seemed to already be getting fed up of. Kurt was uncomfortable, trying to look at any place but in front of him. He didn't know how to pick up the conversation again after that awkward confrontation. Sebastian's face was familiar, but he couldn't place why.

Blaine finally spoke. "You seem like a really nice guy, Kurt," he said "And I heard all of your classes are AP. Why are you a part of the Skanks anyways?" He fumbled with his words a little as though they took too much effort to get out, or he felt guilty of saying them.

Kurt's body tensed. He gritted his teeth and tried to sip his mocha nonchalantly. He wondered why the brunette even knew about his AP classes. When Blaine noticed he wasn't answering, he cleared his throat awkwardly and started again. "Are you into sports by chance?"

He smiled like if the distressing question hadn't been asked. He was an expert at ignoring uncomfortable or upsetting things. "Hate them, honestly."

* * *

The date ended at minutes to five pm. All in all Kurt thought it was pretty successful. He drove Blaine home and walked him up to his doorstep. He knew he was pushing it but before he could change his mind he planted a chaste kiss on Blaine's lips. The boy's lips tasted like the bitter coffee he drank, but it was a pleasant taste. The brunette had stood frozen to the spot and when Kurt smiled, a goofy grin replaced the shock. He was still red in the face when Kurt said goodbye and went back into the car.

He found himself thinking about the cute look on Blaine's face all the way home.

He snorted some more coke that evening, then remembered that he needed the weed to help him down. He had totally forgotten that he was supposed to meet Quinn at four pm. The date wasn't supposed to last for so long. He quickly texted her an apology.

_Sorry I forgot to meet you. I got caught up on the date. Maybe tomorrow?_

At least that was what he wanted to text. He guessed that since he was still high the words barely looked like English. It was probably readable as Quinn replied twenty minutes later. She must have been upset to take so long. It was a terrible idea to keep a supplier waiting.

_Whatever. We'll talk tomorrow, k? Kinda busy right now._

Right. They were at The Rig. Kurt put down his phone and tried to calm his racing mind but the coke was having none of it. Instead he went out to his living room and popped in Wicked in his DVD Player. He sang along to every song, repeated almost every line and was grinning like a fool when the line Blaine quoted came up. By the time the movie was done he was still singing. He just didn't realize that he was singing at the top of his lungs.

Someone was banging on his door.

He shuffled over and in his haze, forgot to check the peephole. He opened it to the pudgy face of the owner of the complex. Even through the high he felt a ripple of fear as the memories of extreme pain and harsh embarrassment came back to him. _Never again_ Kurt thought fiercely.

"Shut the fuck up!" the man shouted. Kurt had forgotten his name. "Some people are trying to get some sleep here."

Unfortunately, he was too drugged to think coherently. "You don't have to shout, you cunt!" He never saw the punch coming. It hit him square on the side of his face and sent his head reeling. He stumbled and his feet went out from under him. His arm shot out to break his fall and ended up bending in the wrong direction. He cried out in pain.

"That'll teach you to talk back, you fucking slut," he spat then slammed the door closed.

Kurt clutched his hand to his stomach and rolled onto his side, curled up in the fetal position. That was completely unnecessary! He was high so he barely felt anything but the impact alone was enough to make him recoil. Slowly he got to his feet and limped over to the couch where he threw himself down. By the next hour he would feel the pain and Kurt hoped that he would fall asleep by then.

In half an hour he did and when he woke up, there were vivid marks to show it.

* * *

The next day everyone kept staring at his face. There was no way to hide a swollen cheek anyways so he had prepared a lie after concealing as much of the purple as possible. He was glad that the Skanks had said not a word and instead just brought him some ice and offered a weed roll. The school nurse had bandaged his wrist for him without a word.

Blaine, however was more than worried.

"Oh my God. Kurt! What happened?" You could have sworn that he and Blaine were friends since preschool.

Kurt tried to put on a smile but failed. "I woke up still sleepy this morning, opened the door and walked right into it. My cheek took the brunt of it. I fell badly on my hand."

"Oh," Blaine said, visibly calming down. "Are you okay, though?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He laughed a fake laugh. Blaine stayed silent for a while, watching the mark on Kurt's face intently. "Can you...can you stop staring at it? I've had enough of that all morning."

"Sorry, sorry. It's just that...that's a weird door you got there." Blaine laughed a little but Kurt had the uncanny feeling that Blaine thought the mark on his face was more than a door. "What class do you have this morning?" His eyes finally met Kurt's and he was surprised at the concern he found in them.

"AP English with Robertson."

"Oh me too!" Blaine said cheerily.

"Great! Shall we go then?"

Blaine held out his hand and it took Kurt a few seconds to notice that he wanted him to hook his arm with him. Kurt smiled, not disturbed by the prospect at all. He didn't even flip off the disgusted stares he got. In his head he thought that Blaine was a clingy one - one date and they were already close to holding hands.

In a way, part two of his plan was already completed.

* * *

At the end of the day, Kurt had caused Blaine's first detention. The brunette had been distraught but Kurt had taken the slip nonchalantly.

"It's ok," Kurt said calmly. He petted Blaine's head as the boy was close to tears. He ignored the gross, sticky gel on his hand. "It's not going on your permanent record anyways."

"But," Blaine had started, his lip quivering. "It's only my second week of school." During English Kurt had slipped Blaine a note asking for them to go on a date that Saturday to the water park in the nearby town. Unfortunately, Blaine wasn't an expert in being secretive and with his large grin and the way he kept staring down at the note in his lap, he gave them away to Mr. Robertson all too easily. One look at Kurt and the teacher had given them both detentions, no questions asked. Of course that was after he read out the note to the class which burst into laughter. Kurt had used some choice words and had gotten an extra hour.

"I get detention all the time, Blaine," he offered. "And look where I am. I'm still doing AP subjects."

Blaine sniffed and the puppy-dog look he gave him made his heart clench. He fought back the wide smile and the feeling to cuddle such cuteness. "Are you sure?" That small, sad voice caused an emotion in Kurt that he couldn't name.

He nodded confidently. "Plus, you'll be with me." That lightened Blaine up. They had five minutes to get to the classroom before their detention started. "Let's go. I think Robertson's watch is five minutes fast."


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: slight OOCness**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Meeting suppliers was always some tricky shit. This was why Quinn usually bought most of the supplies, Kurt stepping in once or twice if it was an easy job like buying from Mike. Weed suppliers weren't dangerous like coke addicts – they were secretive, cunning and extremely intelligent. The majority of them weren't brave and outright in their act but they had enough pride to become famous and keen enough to keep their names from the police.

The Skanks supplier was one of the few scholars in Ohio – he worked in a shack that posed as a shoe repair store but with the right password and cash on hand he could sell you anything: from weed to opium to barbiturates and sometimes if you were willing to pay, chloroform. To cover up his tracks, he had a degree in Criminology and Sociology at OSU and juggled working in a law firm with little to no social life. He even had a Wikipedia page. Kurt had always looked up to the man who called himself John (he refused to believe that was the man's real name) and appeared on the surface to be a man in his mid-thirties who looked twice his age with a severe fashion problem and talented hands. He spoke with a small voice and always wore tracks and a sweatshirt but Kurt could see through the cleverly disguised personality.

John was a genius of a different kind, one who had started off selling weed at the tender age of fourteen to make money for his ailing mother, as the rumors had said. He was a legend, an artist even. And through the nerd exterior Kurt could see without the glasses and ugly clothes that John, or whoever he was, was a really good-looking man who had talent in weaving lies and remembering them. A handsome, confident man who worked in a shoe repair store with little to no pay and a harem of girls around him was never a good façade. Kurt wished he could learn from him but whenever he approached the man, there was something about him that scared Kurt a little.

Maybe it was the dark aura, or the cold, emotionless eyes he stared at you with over his glasses; or even the little voice he spoke with that sometimes if you didn't hear a word or two, in a state of paranoia you could easily perceive that he had just whispered some evil premonition that if you went home you might find a dead cat on your doorstep with its blood painting a sign on the door. Then there was the other feeling that John knew everything, more than he let on. Sometimes Kurt felt as though John knew the world about his customers, from their address to where they worked, and although it scared Kurt shitless, he knew how important it was to know more about your customers than they knew about themselves.

Being an expert drug seller was allowing your mind to cross the thin line between sanity and insanity. John had obviously crossed over and back. No one else understood it, no one had a tiny shiver run through their body as soon as they stepped into the store like Kurt did or noticed the way how the repair store was the only business building on such a deserted street…but John did because he knew everything and had a way of manipulating it to elevate his status in the drug industry.

John was an Einstein born in the wrong age of dumb blondes stereotypes and buck wild rednecks. It was possibly the reason why he had invested so much in the drug industry when he had all the money he needed at the moment. It could have been his way to cope, to do something so brilliant and damnable right under everyone's noses yet always have a sly escape and the perfect alibi to keep his dignity.

Keeping secrets. That was what John liked. Purely on Kurt's suppositions, of course.

Even though Kurt had told himself to get it together, that this man was no threat to him as long as he wasn't a threat to John's business, he still couldn't help his eyes from scanning the small shop warily, trying to pick out a hidden camera among soles and heels and glancing back every now and then to see if anyone was outside. He tried to do it as surreptitiously as possible because John was quick to note people's actions and very much like Sherlock Holmes, be twenty steps ahead.

Quinn was by his side, calm and cool as ever. She leaned against the counter with casual indifference and whispered the password, the words coming out silky smooth through her pink lips that were dangerously close to John's ear. John never liked it when people came too close to him; Kurt saw it firsthand how he flinched away or took two steps back to pretend to be busy with something. He never liked it except for when Quinn did it. Kurt wasn't surprised, however. She was pretty, tall and blonde. What guy, even Einstein, wouldn't want a girl like that?

John glanced over at him, looked him up and down and with a small smile disappeared through a door behind him.

"You owe me so much for this," Quinn said. "You don't know how awful it is to be so close to that guy." She visibly shuddered.

Kurt felt for her. "Why do you do it?"

She fixed him with such a piercing glare he could feel it cut through him. "You don't know how dangerous this guy is, Kurt. One mistake, one little slip up and you're dead." Kurt's mouth fell open slightly. "Let's just say, he's _very_ over-protective of his job."

The backdoor creaked and Quinn faced John again with a smile that fell between playful and sexy. John placed the brown paper bag on the table, took the cash and muttered a small, "Thank you," to her. He stole a quick glance at Kurt again and opened his mouth as though he was about to say something, but then he decided against it.

"Have a nice day, Kurt," John said instead.

Kurt didn't catch it then but as soon as he left the store he realized – he never told John his name.

He turned to Quinn with wide, questioning eyes but she shot him a look that repeated what she said before. _Let's just say, he's very over-protective of his job_. Kurt underestimated John. He thought he was being stealthy, only making appearances once every couple months so there was no reason for John to know a thing about him. But there he went contradicting himself. Of course John knew his scarce visitors; those were always the most important, the ones to keep a serious eye on.

They entered Quinn's Sedan and she handed him the brown bag to put in his satchel. She drove off without a word and when they were a block away from Kurt's house which was a good few kilometers from John, she parked on the curb and rested her head on the steering wheel, taking deep, slow breaths. When she looked up at Kurt she had tears in her eyes.

"I don't understand," Kurt said, then found himself laughing. "I honestly thought we were doing really well in hiding."

Quinn shook her head. "How can you hide from someone who probably has eyes everywhere?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Well, fuck it. Our covers are blown. I say we keep living life and not let this little bump slow us down."

Kurt nodded although his mind was elsewhere, calculating and over-analyzing the situation. He had underestimated John. Of course there was a reason why people called him The Legend. Any thought of hiding something from him was close to impossible.

"No wonder why he never got caught," Kurt thought aloud. "How does he do it?"

"Do what?" Quinn said, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. "Be so fucking smart?" She reached into the backseat, pulled out a sub and took a vicious bite from it. She pointed it at Kurt.

"Keep all these secrets and lies," Kurt answered, politely denying the offered sub. He couldn't eat in frantic situations like these. "Won't a normal person eventually break down? You know, something inside him might snap and one day he would just walk into the police station and hand himself up?"

Quinn shrugged. "Who ever said he was normal?"

"He must have some sort of driving force," Kurt said pensively. "Like a parent or a significant other."

"Please don't, Kurt," she pleaded. "Don't get yourself into unnecessary trouble. I can't lose you too." She pulled up in front of the complex and held him with such remorseful eyes it made Kurt feel guilty for even having such a thought. "Promise me you won't do something stupid, like visit him and start asking a million and one questions."

"I won't," he said, trying for light and cheerful. "He's not _that_ interesting that I'd put myself in danger just to know." He believed the exact opposite. John _was _that interesting and when Kurt wanted to know something that wasn't readily available – he made it his duty to do so. It was stupid and impulsive and just like in all the books he read, the character either got himself killed or seriously harmed. But Kurt had too, to make up for the dull ache in his life.

Quinn's lips turned up at the corners but he couldn't figure out if it was relieved or piteous. "Just… Just ask the right people, okay?"

Kurt nodded. "I'm not that stupid Quinn." He hopped out of the Sedan. "See ya Monday." He closed the door and waved goodbye before heading up to his apartment.

The first thing he had to do was call The Mack. Surely some truckers could have had previous dealings with John and maybe a little bit of information too.

* * *

The first part of his second plan was set into action. He had called The Mack and she too had warned him about John but offered to talk to her guy friends anyways. After that he checked up on Blaine to see if the boy was still up for their date the next day.

"Of course!" Blaine said brightly. "Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"Oh thank God, I'd be really grateful for that, thanks," Kurt replied. He hated asking for things, hated knowing that because he didn't have someone else had to give him. Kurt liked his independence but after his parents died he had to knock down his pride a bit and accept how things had to be. Even having to borrow Quinn's car although she was his good friend made him die a little inside but what choice did he have really?

There was a lot of noise coming from the other end, a loud crash and then a very irritated shout from Blaine that stretched the name Cooper into ten syllables. The phone went silent and then a heavily breathing Blaine came back on.

"Sorry," he said, clearly irritated. "My stupid brother was doing something stupid."

"You have a brother?" Kurt asked. "I'm guessing his name is Cooper?"

"Yeah but that's not important," Blaine said quickly. "What are you up to?"

Kurt didn't change the topic just yet. "Maybe I could meet him sometime." The wheels in his head were already turning.

"Maybe." It sounded very much like a "no". "Do you have anything planned for later?"

"I'm gonna go visit my parents and then, I don't know, do homework or something." Of course that last part was a lie.

"Oh," Blaine said softly and remained silent for a while. He was doing the moment-of-silence-for-Kurt's-dead-parents thing that everyone did and thought was appropriate. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Well, gotta go now." He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "See you tomorrow."

"Sure," he said, his voice still solemn. "Bye."

Kurt hung up, sat on his bed and sighed heavily. The house was void of all shouting and loud TV watching because Peter wasn't home. He was most likely trying to pick up a woman at a bar or was passed out in an alley. Whichever, it was none of Kurt's business as long as he still had food and shelter.

He checked the time noting that it was four pm. "Best get this done with," he said to no one in particular. His wallet had one hundred dollars in it and that was to buy some flowers and make a little groceries. He tried to budget his money, spending only twenty dollars a week because the money his parents left behind was to save up for college and to keep a secret from Peter. It hurt having to pretend that he had nothing, or what his parents left behind was barely anything but he couldn't let Peter know he had money because surely, all of it would have gone straight down the drain. As of that he'd resorted to buying monotonous clothes to make it look like he had none and getting the cheapest apartment in Ohio. It was a wonder that Peter never asked where the money magically appeared from to pay the rent but Kurt was thankful that the man didn't ask too many questions as long as there was food on the table and a couple bucks in his hand to buy alcohol.

The cemetery wasn't that far from the complex and along the way was a stand selling flowers. Kurt bought some chrysanthemums and roses and after spotting the grocery, decided he would go there on his way back. Getting nearer now, his brain registered the area and automatically, he feel into a deep depressed state.

Before he even went through the gate, the deep ache in the pit of his stomach had hit him and tears started streaming down his face. His hand crushed the flowers but he barely noticed. The tombs were too far from the entrance, _too damn far_, and already he was on the ground, crying so hard he couldn't breathe and the pain, that pain that travelled throughout his entire body was too much for him. His throat and eyes burned, propping up against a cold, hard tombstone with his mouth open and no sound coming out. One second he inhaled so sharply his lungs hurt and his chest heaved and at that moment everything just felt even _worse_. It was indescribable. Emotional pain didn't have words. Only _feeling_. Inconsolable feelings that no one else but you understood.

Now he remembered why he hadn't visited the graves in two months. This…this was one thing he couldn't handle.

When he had fallen on his side he didn't know and neither did he hear the moment when his cries were audible and he started bawling, but suddenly there was this thick, middle-aged woman with bushy brown hair helping him up from the ground, wrapping a strong arm around his waist and dragging him over to the bench outside the gate. She sat him down and allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder as she dusted off his clothes. Kurt turned his head into her shawl so he could muffle his cries, not caring that he was getting snot all over it but extremely welcome for the warmth and comfort this stranger provided. She could have been a homeless woman for all he knew but he needed her. More than he ever knew he needed someone else.

"It's okay sweetheart," she said soft and light and somehow it cut through his screams. "I bet Ferdinand was a great, great man." _Ferdinand? _It must have been the name on the tombstone he was leaning on and the lady mistook his grieving for him. He wanted to tell her, shout at her that he wasn't crying for any _fucking Ferdinand _but it was his parents, his _parents_, the both of them! But he couldn't. He could barely breathe, much less form words. A warm hand rested on his back and rubbed soothing circles. It passed through his hair and another sharp shock of angst sliced him as he remembered lying down on his father's lap with his fingers rubbing his scalp so calmingly that he fell asleep.

His hands clutched the woman's blouse and the other her back. It was dying down now, he could tell. The circles on his back was comforting, slowing down his breathing and reducing his bawls to hiccups and gasping and the tears had run their course but he was just letting out the last bit.

"That's it, honey," she said. "Let it ease away slowly."

When he stopped he was tired and so worn out it felt like if he had just run a 10k marathon. His head was pounding and the wetness on his face was uncomfortable. He was pretty sure his entire face was a flaming tomato with puffy eyes and swollen lips from when he had bitten them trying to keep back his screams. His brain registered the situation he was in and he pulled back hastily. The woman's arm dropped from his back.

He looked up into serene green eyes. "I'm so sorry," Kurt apologized, looking at her damp shawl and wrinkles in her floral blouse.

"But it's not your fault, honey," she said and smiled so lovingly her eyes crinkled. "Everyone experiences pain at some point in time, some greater than others."

"B-but I ruined your sh-shawl," Kurt said weakly. He was still hiccupping so his words stuttered.

"That's fine, if that's what you're worried about! All it takes is some washing detergent." She giggled and her cheeks turned red against her pale skin. "Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine. I think… I think I really needed that." He tried for a smile but it was too much effort. Wordlessly she pulled out a rag and offered it to him. "Thanks," he mumbled and finally got rid of the stickiness on his face. He thought about handing it back to her but figured who would want back a snot-covered rag anyways.

"What's your name, boy?" she asked, taking off her shawl. She folded it neatly and placed it in a large leather purse. "My name is Lucy Graham." Kurt shook the proffered hand.

"Kurt Hummel." Telling an old lady his name wouldn't do anyone any harm anyways. "Thanks a lot, Ms. Graham."

"Oh please, call me Lucy." She smiled sweetly again. "Do you need someone to talk too?"

Kurt shook his head. It felt better not to talk about his parents' death because of the reminder it gave him. Maybe he bore a little to this random lady but he wasn't ready to take it that far. "I'm good now, really." He looked up at the still bright sky and down back at his empty hands. "Shit! I lost my satchel."

"Oh!" she exclaimed then reached behind her and pulled out the familiar Marc Jacobs washed up messenger bag that he used only on special occasions. The old black and purple JanSport shoulder bag was for clubbing and school. This bag was his _life_. It was the one possession of his mother that he had remaining after Peter made them sell every brand name items his parents owned to make money. Kurt clutched it tightly to his chest. "These too." She handed him the flowers he dropped.

"Thank God," he said. He frowned at the ruined flowers. "Thank you a lot Ms Gra- I mean Lucy." He sensed their encounter was coming to an end. "You helped me more than you know."

She waved her hand. "Anytime, dearie. Just know that Ferdinand loves you."

Kurt nearly laughed but caught himself in time. "Actually, I didn't come to see Ferdinand. These flowers were for my parents. Their graves are kind of far away." He rubbed his arm. "Were you here for someone too?"

"I see," Lucy said. "I came to see my husband." Then she did that wry smile that Kurt wore on so many occasions. It didn't mean anything, just a twitch of the lips to fill the gap in conversation. "Have a nice day, Kurt." She got up from the bench. "Did you need any help delivering those flowers?" She paused, adding as an afterthought.

Kurt kindly denied her offer, certain of himself that he was ready to face the graves now. "I think I'll try it alone this time."

Lucy nodded. "Just know you don't always have to be alone." Then with a cheery wave, she picked up her purse and shuffled away.

Kurt watched her turn the corner before reentering the cemetery. He made it past the first pathway and his parents were on the second. The pain was nothing more than a dull throb during the walk but when he stood in front the tombstones, it came back in full force again. He fell to his knees and even when he thought he had no more tears, they were suddenly there again. The roses were for his mother, the chrysanthemums for his father. He opened his mouth to say a few words but they couldn't get around the hurting lump in his throat.

So instead he talked to them in his mind, told them what he had been up too for the past two years, that he wasn't doing very well but he was still an excellent student. He was hanging around with the wrong group but he wasn't doing anything insane (unless they counted smoking weed and snorting coke as insane, which it probably was) or to tamper too much with his life.

By the time he finished he stopped crying, the annoying headache still there. He massaged his temples. "I love you guys," he ended and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he looked around and noticed a man not too far away leaving the cemetery with black hair and a patched jacket. The jacket was familiar and even the drunken lilt to his walk. Perhaps it was Peter. Or maybe it was just another griever. Kurt looked back at the grave and noticed the lilies surrounding the tombstone of his mother.

Unwillingly, a smile formed on his face knowing that someone else missed her too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings: scarce profanity**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Saturday came more quickly than anticipated. It was difficult to get out of the depression he had fallen into but with a couple blunts and a trip to The Rig and he was fifty percent back on his feet.

Caribbean Cove was a two hundred acre expanse of land with tall, rigid structures of colorful plastic tubes and where there weren't tubes, were blue surfaces of the pools. Fake palm trees dotted the compound and there was even a patch of sand near the children's pool. At the entrance they were given a map to the area with little boxes on each ride to keep check of what you rode and what you didn't. The grounds were surprisingly free of litter and on a Saturday at 12 noon when it was 103 degrees Fahrenheit out, the place was jam-packed with swarms of bikini-clad women and children and men walking around in their trunks. Next to him he could practically feel Blaine's excitement vibrating out of him.

"Which ride do you think we should go on first?" Blaine asked, gazing doe-eyed at everything as though it was the first time he laid eyes on plastic.

Kurt wasn't nearly as elated about it. All of the rides looked enormous and magnificent and he hated the ticklish feeling when his stomach dropped as he plummeted to his supposed death below. He surveyed the map in his hand and picked out the smallest, not drawn to scale, ride. "How about this one?"

Blaine followed his finger then looked up at him and grinned. He expected the boy to be a little upset. "The easiest ones first? That's a good idea to prime us up for the bigger ones." He was all smiles and dimpled-cheek and sparkling, brown eyes. His arms couldn't stay still at his sides and now and then Blaine would give a little bounce on his feet.

"To the ticket booth, I guess," Kurt said with an impassive smile. His stomach was doing somersaults and when he looked up at the sky-scraping rides his palms started prickling with sweat and his heart rate quickened. This was his worst idea for a date yet. He quickly looked back down at his feet to stop from discouraging himself any further. This was for the Skanks. It was all for the Skanks.

Blaine was already nearing the ticket booth so Kurt jogged after him. His green and blue striped tank top was sticky with sweat against his chest and his blue trunks were loose and airy. His flip flops slapped against the tiled ground, splashing in little puddles of water. The satchel hooked on his shoulder bumped lightly against his side as he ran. Blaine had worn a green Henley tee and bright, blue trunks with his unruly hair free of gel. Kurt wondered what it looked like when completely wet.

"Two tickets for Sidewinder Blast, please," Blaine said to the ticket seller. In the glassed booth was a woman with dark hair and a bang just shy of her eyebrows. She wore a teal polo shirt with the Caribbean Cove monogram of a cave on the sands of a beach with a dolphin in mid-air. She was chewing a gum loudly and obscenely. No, not chewing. _Popping_. Kurt felt a Chicago song from the musical coming on.

She moved lazily to retrieve the tickets when like a little child, Blaine lit up and shouted, "Oh no wait!" She glared at him, stuck the gum out of her mouth and went back to popping. "What's that gold card for?"

"The Gold Card gives you the ability to try every single ride without having to return to the ticket booth over and over again. It's cheap and very convenient for families who plan on staying for long hours," she recited in an even lazier drawl. Her pink gum appeared in front of her teeth and disappeared again. Kurt found himself instantly annoyed by it.

Blaine turned to Kurt. "Can we buy it Kurt? Please?"

And what a big, horrible monster Kurt would be for denying him. "No. I don't think we have enough time for that."

The brunette's face fell. "Come _on_. I bet you don't have anything to do for the rest of the day. It's only ten rides anyways!"

"Seventeen actually," the girl corrected, "and an eighteenth is under construction."

"Blaine, we shouldn't-"

"It's only fifty dollars a person you know," she drawled.

"We'll take it," Blaine announced without seeking acquiescence from Kurt. By the time he was about to protest Blaine had already slipped the money through the slot in the glass window and was receiving two gold guards with silver, adjustable chains.

"Blaine, I said _no_-" But the stupid girl was tapping the window behind the sign that said _NO REFUNDS _in red, bold letters with a smug, satisfied smirk on her face. Her cheeks moved as she popped her gum. Kurt bristled but said nothing. He cursed once in front of Blaine already and it wouldn't exactly be an accomplishment to do it again on their second date. Wordlessly he followed Blaine to the drop-off area to safeguard their bags. The man in charge had salt-and-pepper hair, a grey beard and tired, droopy eyes. Were all the people here lazy bastards? This guy was probably thirty and with a little black dye, a weight-loss program and some kind of reconstructive surgery to lift his eyes and get rid of that double, no wait, triple chin and he'd be more pleasing to look at.

Kurt slid his satchel across the table and Blaine his backpack. The guy picked the bags up and threw them haphazardly into a compartment.

"The fu-" He stopped himself in time. "Thank you for being gentle," Kurt said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The man spared Kurt a glance. "Your hands please." They placed their hands on the counter and watched as he took out a stamp and turned the dial to 40. He stamped Blaine's wrist and Kurt was pretty sure he stamped his extra hard. Kurt turned away, disgusted and then a waft of breeze floated by with the smell of food on it. Salty fries, greasy fried chicken, cholesterol-filled chili hotdogs - his mouth watered at just the thought of it.

"Hey, how about we get some food first?" Kurt asked, already turning towards the food court.

But either Blaine didn't hear or he ignored him and took Kurt by the hand to begin pulling him along. "This is gonna be so awesome, Kurt!" Blaine said over his shoulder. The crowd of people made it hard to maneuver but Blaine never let go of his hand. A handsome boy passed by, his ridged abs gleaming and wet from the water, his dirty blonde hair slick and falling into his eyes. The boy pushed it back and met Kurt's eyes. Kurt winked at him but he turned up his nose. Kurt flipped him the finger. "-swim, right?"

He had stopped walking and was looking at Kurt, waiting for him to answer. "What?" Kurt asked. "Sorry, I was fascinated by the rides."

The kid smiled. At that angle the sun was directly behind him and made Blaine's body glow a golden, brown color and his hair looked like they were dusted with light brown speckles of sunlight. He really was handsome, Kurt decided. They started walking again and eventually came to the first ride. The steps to the top looked more than fifty feet high, or maybe he was just over-exaggerating.

Nope, it was definitely more than fifty feet high.

Kurt's bravery faltered. "Shouldn't we go in the pool for a little bit first? Get ourselves accustomed to the temperature of the water before going on the rides, if you know what I mean."

Blaine shrugged. "Sure. A ten-second dip is cool." In Kurt's mind, he expected them to be there for ten minutes to three hours.

They rounded the ride and Kurt went in the water first, descending small steps into the shallow area. Behind him, Blaine followed. He waded out into the water until it was chest-high and then floated over to the side to hold on so he wouldn't be bombarded by the fear of his feet suddenly lifting off the ground. Blaine stayed in the center of the water, his hands moving gently to keep his body afloat. He was looking at Kurt curiously.

"Can you swim?" Blaine asked.

Kurt's heart did a little two-step and his face flushed red. "I can't actually. Never got the time too and I had no one to teach me."

"Oh." Blaine looked down into the light blue of the water, his brows furrowed and deep in thought. "Can you float?" Kurt shook his head and when he did, Blaine beamed. "Let me teach you then."

Kurt knew exactly where this was going and started rejecting it before Blaine even made his way over to him. "I know what you're thinking Blaine and the answer is no! I don't want to learn how to float, thank you very much."

"But we're in a _water _amusement park, Kurt!" Blaine said coyly. He was getting closer, and fast. "You should at least know how to get back to the surface."

"I know what to do already!" Kurt yelled and tried moving to the side, away from Blaine. He cursed under his breath at the slow rate he was moving at, the water pushing him back. "Kick with your legs and flap your arms."

Blaine's laughter reached him, nearer now. Kurt looked back and saw that the boy was enjoying the cat and mouse chase, purposefully moving slow to give Kurt the idea that he was moving fast. "If you're trying to fly, sure. But what about when you resurface? How do you plan to get to the end of the pool?"

He honestly hadn't thought of that and was relying on some kind of natural momentum to push him towards the edge of the pool. He now realized how stupid that sounded. One of the base of the rides was submerged in this pool and Kurt found relief in hiding behind the plastic structure. It was the lowest level, and an acrylic glass structure rose behind him and the shadow over his head was formed by a floating pool, connecting to the third level above. Kurt wondered how many levels there were and was so occupied thinking he didn't see that Blaine was trying to move stealthily through the water to sneak up on him.

He threw his body into the water with a splash and tried bouncing away but no matter how much he bounced, he didn't move any faster. Blaine's curls were damp and stuck to his forehead and it was then Kurt saw that he had taken off his shirt. A tuft of brown hair, so light it was barely visible, dusted his upper chest and there were no visible signs of serious working out except for the natural biceps of his arms. Kurt envisioned himself holding on to those biceps, his fingers digging into them as Blaine thrusted away inside him-

Blaine had sprung at that last moment, thinking that Kurt was luring him by using false stagnancy. He bowled Kurt over and the both of them plunged underwater, Kurt's hands reaching up to grab onto any part of Blaine instinctively. He swallowed a mouthful of water and the bitter taste of chlorine gagged him. Automatically he breathed in and the cold water through his nose burned his lungs and nostrils. He could see above him the shimmering image of the sun on the surface of the water and feel a heavy weight pushing him lower, deeper. A lone figure was standing on the side of the pool, dressed all in black and watching down at him. He reached up his hand for help but the person turned and walked away. Then there was a hard motion in the water that sent ripples around him and suddenly he was rising, rising toward the surface-

Kurt broke through and drew breath sharply through his mouth. He coughed and wheezed as the water in his lungs forced its way up. Blaine was there behind him, patting him on the back and telling him to breathe and swallow, breathe and swallow but his brain must have been swamped with water too because saying it was easier than actually doing it. Breathe and swallow processed as choke and splutter. It took several minutes for him to calm down but the experience under the water felt like hours.

Blaine, the cunt, was _laughing_. Kurt pushed him away angrily and shouted, "That wasn't funny Blaine! You could have _killed_ me!" Blaine's laughter died away. He looked confused.

"Kurt, we only spent like two seconds under the water..."

His nose was burning and his chest still ached. Two seconds? Was he fucking serious?

"Kurt, are you okay?" He came closer and Kurt had to bite his lip from cursing him and fight back his body's natural instinct to push Blaine away from coming closer. Physical contact always made things worse.

"I'm fine," he bit. Blaine left Kurt to himself for a while to calm down and regain his composure. Kurt was thankful for the space and wrapped his arms around his chest, the cold air biting into his skin now registering. Underneath the water had felt so _long_, so _familiar_ like if he had such a god-awful experience already that he couldn't remember or his brain had blocked out as a defense mechanism. And the weight pushing him down probably wasn't even Blaine if they had resurfaced in two seconds. Not to mention the person standing on the bank of the pool which would have been impossible since all there was was the clear, glass barrier. A voice was telling him to remember, but remember what? He was in desperate need of a smoke right about now. He should have snorted some coke before coming here to give him the courage to go through with this.

He chewed his bottom lip. They only spent about ten minutes there and already he had a near death experience. But he couldn't give up, not yet.

He looked up at Blaine who was staring at anything but him. "I'm being a real joykill here, aren't I?" He laughed half-heartedly.

"It's ok," Blaine said with a small smile. "We all have our fears." Kurt was going to correct him but gave it a second thought. Was he really that afraid of the water? "Do you want to go home?" Kurt was taken aback. He stared long and hard at Blaine and the sincerity in the kid of the sacrifice he was willing to make inspired a funny feeling in his chest. An emotion of some kind. It made him not want to deny Blaine his fun.

"Don't worry about me, Curly-Q." The nickname spilled from his mouth without any thought or disregard and he instantly regretted it. Luckily, Blaine only smiled.

"I get that a lot, especially from Sue," he said.

Kurt cringed. A nickname from Sue wasn't a nickname at all - it was an insult. "I think I'll just stick to Blaine." He tugged at his tank top. "So..." He felt heat rising in his cheeks. "About floating...?"

Blaine's lips turned up. "Come on." He held Kurt's hand, their fingers clasping together. Kurt liked the way his hand fit in Blaine's. They waded out of the shadow of the ride and floating pool. He heard the splash and felt a little spray as someone flew off one of the rides and landed. They walked past 6ft in the pool and as soon as he reached 7ft, he realized the ground fell away beneath him and panic kicked in. He pulled back, tugging on Blaine's hand. Blaine looked at him, those brown eyes staring fixedly at his face and kept pulling Kurt. His feet lifted off and he kicked, trying to get closer to Blaine. There was nothing beneath his feet besides deceiving water. He pushed and kicked then threw his arms around Blaine's neck and held on for dear life.

"Oh my God," he breathed. He felt Blaine's feet kicking in the water, his moving hands somehow keeping both of them afloat. Then he became aware of how close he was to the brunette's face. They were beyond the borders of personal space. Kurt turned his head and noted with a shock that their lips were just a hair's breadth away from each other. Then again, why was he even shocked? It wasn't as though he never came this close to Blaine before. He leaned forward and connected their lips, sliding his tongue into Blaine's open mouth. He tilted his head so their lips slid perfectly together, in a soft, sensual motion that made his nerves tingle. Their kiss was slow, languid, and Kurt wished it could have lasted longer if it wasn't for an incessant ringing noise that cut through the tranquil air surrounding him.

Blaine pulled back first and turned his head sharply to the left. The lifeguard was crouching down at the side of the pool, a red whistle in his mouth blowing profusely. Kurt realized he was the guy he winked at earlier.

"Excuse me, but this is a family-oriented park," he said. Even his voice was sexy, like the lifeguards on Baywatch. "Public display of affection is not allowed, or else I would be forced to remove you from the area." Kurt removed his hands from around Blaine's neck and floated away so there were a couple of inches between their bodies.

"Happy?" Kurt said indignantly. The lifeguard nodded, got up and walked away. "Ugh. I bet if I was a girl no one would have said anything. Homophobic ass-" He sighed in agitation. It was becoming harder and harder not to curse.

Blaine shook his head as though he was just waking up. "We were treading water...right." He took Kurt's hands and paddled farther away from him. He didn't know what treading was but he hoped it was a lot easier than floating. "Place your hands flat on top of mine." Kurt did as told. Blaine's firm hands kept Kurt floating. "Now start kicking your feet but when you're doing it, make sure your toes are pointed."

"Wouldn't I catch cramp easier that way?" he asked.

The kid shrugged. "Never happened to me." Kurt went ahead with it and started kicking his legs furiously. Blaine started laughing. "You're not angry at the water, Kurt! Make it gentle, smooth-"

"Like that kiss?" Kurt hinted. He smiled proudly as Blaine bent his head and blushed.

"Yeah, I guess." Kurt slowed down his "angry" kicking and tried for gentle and smooth. Blaine nodded and said he was doing great.

"Keep your hands on mine. I'm going to teach you the motion to keep your body afloat." Blaine moved his hands farther apart and to the side, Kurt's hands on top his following. Then he plunged them sharply down into the water and up again in a circular motion. He did this several times so Kurt would get accustomed. "I'm going to pull away my hands n-"

"Wait wait!" Kurt panicked. "I'm not ready yet! Don't let go, okay?" He stared wide-eyed at Blaine and the boy smiled gently.

"I'll catch you if your sinking, Kurt. I'm right here."

Kurt hated the babyish voice Blaine used with him, and hated even more how dependent he was on him. His words sounded immature and weak to his own ears, much less to Blaine. He was acting like such a coward when he'd done more dangerous and death-defying things. He swallowed and allowed Blaine to slide his hands from under his. When his support was gone, the initial reaction was to kick furiously and flap his arms wildly and then his body started sinking and the water was rising up, suffocating him, crushing his lungs-

Strong hands held his waist and rose him back up. He was breathing heavily, like you could have sworn he just went under. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Kurt apologized profusely, angry with himself for being so weak. "I don't know what's wrong with me!" Blaine shh-ed him and told him it was natural for first timers to be so scared of sinking. It wasn't normal for someone to immediately become accustomed to water, especially knowing that drowning means death.

"Treading water is harder than it looks. The doggy paddle is much easier though."

"Ok," Kurt said confidently. "I like the sound of that better." Blaine moved behind him, hooked an arm under Kurt's stomach and pressed his back down so Kurt was in a half crouch in the water.

"Reach forward with your hands, as though you're trying to bring the water towards you." He lined up his forearm with Kurt's and followed through with the motion. Kurt picked up easily and again was aware of the weight of Blaine's chest pressed against his back. "Paddle your legs like I just told you." He repeated the action. "And that's the doggy paddle." Blaine moved away from behind Kurt and left him there. Kurt started laughing then, amazed that he wasn't sinking and drowning like he expected. With the hand and leg motion he felt his body begin to move forward and then he was turning and paddling back to the side of the pool, then back to Blaine again. Halfway there his legs and hands started getting tired. He kicked and paddled then threw himself on Blaine to stop from sinking.

Blaine caught him by the arms, laughing. "That was cute." Kurt rose a brow at him but said nothing. No one ever called him cute. Hot, yeah. Sexy, sure. But never cute. "Are you ready for the rides yet?" He was all smiles by then and was already heading towards the edge of the pool ahead of Blaine.

* * *

The second worst mistake Kurt had ever made in his life was riding the Deep Abyss. It reached a staggering height of eighty feet, rising intimidatingly up and up as though it wanted to touch the sky. It had taken them a good ten minutes just to reach to the top of the damn thing, and now Blaine expected him to go _down_?!

"Fuck no!" Kurt cursed without thinking. "No way in _fucking hell _am I going down that insane piece of shit, Blaine!"

The brunette's face registered complete shock at the crude language and Kurt was almost sure he had scared him but the expression was overridden by the impulse to laugh. Blaine tried to keep his mouth closed but his lips trembled and the laughter just burst out of him. Kurt rolled his eyes and turned away. The landing they stood on had no roof, to make things worse, and the guy manning the ride was half asleep on himself on a wooden chair. From up on that height, the world below spread out around him beautifully from east to west, north to south. The houses were minute and far away and if he squinted one eye and held up his hand, he could place his finger on the tip of a faraway mountain, just so. The people below were walking ants with specks of color on them. The pools were circles of blue placed at random intervals and the other rides were no match for the Deep Abyss.

Looking down made things in his stomach churn and roil and threaten to come back up. The pool they would land in looked so small and useless, like if he threw himself off now he wouldn't land anywhere near it. The fear of falling on the hard, tiled floor, cracking his skull in two and breaking every bone of his body over-rode his thoughts. The image of his blood-spattered body on the ground, splattered across the tiles like a splash of red and white paint, his bones and flesh thrown in random directions. A lump in his throat made it hard to swallow and Kurt took an automatic step back, then another, and collided into Blaine's chest.

He spun around quickly and then wished he hadn't put the deep fall behind him. He understood why it was called Deep Abyss now. His hands flew up to grip Blaine's biceps and his heart fluttered when he felt the hard muscles beneath his fingers. He squeezed and tried not to smile. He glanced down and saw the small pudge of his stomach. He wasn't surprised that there were no hard-packed muscles there. He resisted the urge to touch it. When he looked at Blaine's face, the brunette was looking down at him with this funny expression on his face, a mixture between awe and admiration and the kind of look you got when you saw a puppy with milk smeared on its whiskers and muzzle.

"What?" Kurt asked, annoyed.

But Blaine just shook his head. "Nothing. Ready to go?"

Kurt gasped. "Of course not! Was the voicing of my evident displeasure unheard or something? Because I believe I said it pretty loud for the whole damn world to know! I am _not_ going on that ride, Blaine! It should be called Insano for _insane _adrenaline junkies who like this shit!"

"Actually, Insano is the tallest water slide in the world in Brazil at 134.5ft." Kurt tilted his head to the side and saw that a random guy in a white vest, grey and green trunks and a slim, lightly muscled body had spoken. His head was a mess of wet blonde curls.

"You're not helping," he replied through gritted teeth and tilted his head forward. Blaine held onto Kurt's wrist and removed them from his biceps. He spun Kurt around to face his impending doom and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist. The pressure on his back was oddly reassuring.

"Have you ever wished you could fly, Kurt?" Blaine whispered in his ear. He took one step forward and forced Kurt's leg forward too. Kurt pressed his body firmly against Blaine's back.

"Blaine, don't-" he warned, but the boy ignored him.

"Have you?"

Kurt huffed but answered anyways. "Yeah, maybe when I was smaller. Every kid has that phase, along with the teacher phase too."

"Have you ever dreamed of yourself flying? Flying away from here, from everything. Have you ever felt like this world was a cage and you were a bird that belonged in the wild trying to get out? And then one day the cage is left mysteriously open and the world is stretched out beyond you, above you, beneath you, the opportunity just _begging _to be taken and all you have to do is spread your wings and-"

Kurt didn't notice that they were at the edge of the slide now because his eyes were glued to the horizon and his mind occupied with the thought of soaring over it all. "-fly". A rush of air, a whirling of wind and the sound of crashing waves in his ears and Kurt was flying off the edge, falling off the Deep Abyss with his voice lost to the wind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It had been a long time since Kurt could say he had honest-to-God fun. It was different – extremely different from the Skanks' definition of skipping classes to get high off weed and coke and drunk on booze stolen from Quinn's house. It was honest-to-God fun where Kurt smiled freely and could laugh all he wanted and say any random shit and Blaine would just laugh it off and say something even funnier.

He was beginning to, Kurt realized, become comfortable around Blaine. The disconcerting thing about it was he didn't know if that was good or bad.

After the Deep Abyss they had hurried to try the other rides and only when Kurt looked back on it did he realize that _he _was the one pushing Blaine while the idiot – albeit a cute one – was grinning from ear to ear. There was a time when Kurt was running high on emotions and the impulse was so strong that he had to drag Blaine into the corner between the food court and dressing room to make out for a good ten minutes before releasing the boy and trying to make it look like nothing but a typical teenage moment.

Until Blaine kissed Kurt back and they ended up in the corner again for another ten minutes.

They'd eaten, rode some rides, made fun of people (technically, Kurt made fun of people while Blaine laughed uncomfortably because he was too nice to laugh at people and too polite to not laugh at Kurt's jokes) and after their skins were prunes and Kurt's fingernails turned blue and his hair was most likely permanently damaged with all of that chlorine, maybe his lungs too, they headed to the changing room to dry up and head home.

To end the day on an even better note, Peter was knocked out cold on the sofa and didn't even stir as Kurt had a sudden craving for a chocolate smoothie and had to use the blender. He lit up with the windows open a bit and fell asleep dreaming about wet, brown curls and huge brown eyes.

* * *

When The Mack had a boyfriend, she made sure everyone who didn't give a fuck knew about it. Another trucker of course, but apparently this one was "different" and "discussed his emotions with her" and also bought her roses for no apparent reason. She said the same thing for her last five boyfriends.

"He's taking me to dinner tonight and told me to invite my friends," she informed them as they sat under the bleachers, passing around a bottle of Chardonnay. When the wine reached in her hand, she took a long pull then sighed heavily. "He's positively _gorgeous_."

Kurt imagined in another life The Mack would be living in Texas on a ranch with a hillbilly husband and ten kids by age 30. She'd be immensely satisfied.

"What time?" Quinn asked. "My parents decided to see if enforcing my curfew would make me stop getting into trouble."

"Since when do you care?" Kurt asked.

"I'm trying to get on their good side for a little money to stock up again," she replied.

"It's at Arby's for seven. He _loves_ steak and whaddya know, so do I!" The Mack laughed a little too loudly, the wine already kicking in. Kurt took one last sip and passed it on. "He already reserved a table for us. Such a sweetheart, right?"

They had no other choice but to agree.

"But speaking of money," Ronnie began, "How's your plan going with Blaine, Kurt?"

He turned towards her and pinned her with a stare. "We went on a date yesterday and I think he's really comfortable around me. Maybe by next week I could introduce him to you guys?"

"That'd be great," Quinn said.

Sheila spoke up. "How are you so sure he's gonna accept us, Hummel?"

"Blaine wouldn't kill a bird even if it was pecking his eyes out," Kurt said. "He's not very judgmental and any opinion he has he keeps to himself."

"Smart kid," The Mack said with another giggle.

Quinn snatched the bottle out of her hand and handed it to Kurt. "You look like you might need it," she said. Confused but not wanting to ask in front of the others, he drank and took pleasure in the fire going down his throat and the burn in his eyes. He took the bottle from his lips and shook his head to clear the fuzz. The bottle was empty. Those things were tall but had enough wine in it as a 25oz water bottle.

He gave it back to Quinn and she either smiled or grimaced. She promptly smashed the bottle on the ground then scattered the shards and pieces with her shoes. She took the largest shards, broke them again then wrapped it in pages ripped out of her notebook to throw it away in the bin. The first time they'd done this the janitor had complained to Principal Figgins because the shards had cut through the plastic bag and leaked garbage juice and items small enough to fit through the holes all over the football field. It had dried the other morning but the stench was unavoidable. The Skanks were automatically blamed, given a month's detention and as a result, learnt from their mistakes.

The bell rang and Kurt was the first to get up. Everyone stared at him.

"I gotta go meet Blaine to walk him to class," he covered. "Yanno, as part of the plan and whatnot."

Ronnie said something that was probably degrading but Kurt was already walking away because the stares were starting to get to him. He walked to his locker to pack his books and like a sixth sense, his skin prickled and he looked up.

Karofsky and his jocks were surrounding him.

"Hey, Hummel," Karofsky sneered. "Haven't bothered you in a while, have I?"

"Do we really need to do this, Karofsky?" Kurt asked. He closed his locker. "It's getting kind of old, don't you think. No one cares anymore that I'm gay. You're making a big fucking deal about _nothing_."

He leered and scrunched up his face but he had nothing to say.

Azimio spoke for him in his heavy, stupid voice. "Slushie facial it is, fellas!"

The cold didn't affect him until the slushie started seeping through his tee and somehow found its way in his pants. They laughed their jeering laughs, banged up the lockers by his head and walked off. Karofsky remained.

"Embarrass me in front of my friends like that again, _ever_, Hummel and I swear to God I will _kill you_."

He shoved Kurt's shoulders, grunted in his face and stalked off. Karofsky's words rang in his ears. That was the first time the jock had gone so far as to give a death threat. He measured up the guy, wondering if he had the nerve in him to go through with his plan. Maybe with some peer pressure he might but Kurt doubted. He still had a nagging feeling that he should tell someone though, but who? He basically had no one and Principal Figgins was a waste of time. He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut to stop from crying. Why would he cry anyways? He had years of experience of ignoring the bullies, so why now were his emotions acting up?

"Kurt…" a soft voice called. He looked through tears to see Blaine standing in front of him with those doe-like eyes shimmering as though he were the one crying. "I can't believe-"

He pulled his satchel against him and walked off. He expected Blaine to leave him alone but the kid followed him straight to the bathroom. From the moment his skin pricked he had begun packing all the things he would need to clean up after the infamous Slushie Facial. Kurt took out his things and silently, Blaine wet a washcloth and placed it next to the satchel.

Blaine and Quinn were alike in some instances with their silent assumptions and secret deductions. It unnerved him.

"At least let me wash out your hair for you," Blaine offered. Kurt looked up and his glare melted. Blaine's eyes were too large and shining to deny.

"Sure," he croaked. "Let me change my shirt first." He headed into a stall with a new tee and the wet washcloth. He wiped himself off, changed and came back out. Blaine had already dragged a chair from a nearby classroom and was sitting on the sink with a bottle of grapefruit-scented shampoo.

Kurt allowed a smile. "Grapefruit? How do you know I love grapefruit?" He sat down on the chair.

Blaine shrugged. "Lucky guess." But Kurt figured that Blaine just knew because…it was Blaine: the guy who made having fun look easy.

The water came on and then Blaine's fingers were running through his hair, wetting the strands and then a pause and when they came back again he could feel the shampoo being massaged through his scalp. Kurt closed his eyes and concentrated on the nostalgic feel of someone washing his hair, painfully remembering how his father used to do the same when Kurt begged him too because he thought larger hands would get the job done faster. The grapefruit scent flowed to him and his throat closed up.

He hated grapefruit. It was his father's favorite but he had forced himself to come to terms with the scent so he would be prepared for a situation similar to this. He wasn't and he doubted he ever would be.

Blaine rinsed and tapped Kurt lightly on the cheek. He opened his eyes. "Do you want a second rinse or should I just go ahead with the conditioner?"

The question was so far from his thoughts that he had to laugh. "Are you willing to reach late for History class?"

"I don't think Mr. Burton would really care…"

"Then why don't we just skip the next two periods all together?" Kurt proposed.

Blaine's eyes reflected panic. Shit. Too fast, too soon.

"Maybe another time then," he quickly added. "When you feel crazy enough to do it." Kurt winked, Blaine grinned and things were back to normal.

A second rinse and some conditioner later, Kurt was combing through his hair in the mirror with Blaine sitting on the sink next to him, watching intently. Occasionally he would glance at the brunette who didn't take his staring as slightly offensive but only smiled adorably and went back to staring. Kurt gave up with the mental messages.

He peeked out the bathroom door first and told Blaine the coast was clear. Before he left, though, Blaine pulled him back with this serious look on his face. Kurt's stomach dropped. He dreaded this moment.

"How long have they been doing this to you, Kurt?"

He tried for casual. "Since the beginning, I guess. I came to high school openly gay and I knew the consequences but honestly, I didn't care."

Blaine's scalene eyebrows drew together. "How could you just take that? And why is it that a teacher never saw this?"

"They _do _see things. They just don't _see_ things, if you get what I mean."

The brunette shook his head. "No I don't Kurt. That guy threatened to _kill you_."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe Karofsky went a little farther than usual but it's nothing I can't handle."

"If you can handle it then why are they still doing it?" Blaine placed his warm palm on Kurt's shoulder. "I think you should tell someone, Kurt. I'm scared…for you. I know what bullying is like and what it could lead to and I don't want to see you go through something that awful." He shook his head like if he was trying to clear an image from his brain. "Promise me you'll tell someone? You should try Mr. Schue-"

"No, Blaine, _please_," he begged, "don't come with that I should visit a guidance counselor bullshit. 'Cause I've done it Blaine. I went to the counselor once and it didn't fucking help." His voice hitched and he could tell he was getting louder but he couldn't stop. "All they do is make you bring up all these bad memories and when you break down they tell you to "let it all out"; but when does it ever stop Blaine? When does the letting it all out stop? How come they could never help you with that?" He wiped away the tears angrily. "I've learnt to accept it now and so far, I'm still alive, aren't I? So please, leave me the fuck alone about my problems and I won't bother you with yours."

The words were harsh on his tongue and he felt so awful for telling Blaine this but it had to be said or else the boy would continue pitying him where pity wasn't appreciated.

Blaine gave a sad smile. "You're a lot stronger than I am, you know that? A lot stronger…" Kurt stared, a little shocked that Blaine wasn't as upset as expected and at the sudden respect. "And I'm sorry for doubting you even for a second." He tipped forward, kissed Kurt on the corner of his mouth then left.

The bell went signaling the end of second period.

* * *

Looking through a closet was tough, especially when you had literally nothing to wear. In the far back where all useless-but-too-precious-to-throw-away things were, he found a black and blue plaid shirt and matched them with a pair of black pants. He held the shirt up against his chest and instantly liked the way it brought out the blue in his eyes.

Peter wasn't home as usual so he had Florence and the Machine blasting in his room. The lyrics of Cosmic Love rose and fell with Florence's beautiful, haunting voice which made Kurt wonder why the Glee club never did a cover of her instead of the trashy pop songs they had started clinging too. Maybe he'd appreciate them a bit more.

His phone beeped. A text from The Mack. _Change of plans. Arby's is full so we're heading to Dave's Steakhouse instead. Mucho better. _Of course, the reservation had fallen through. The Mack would be making up an excuse for it all now.

He headed outside with a pack of cigarettes. He sat on the bench in the car park and lit one to keep him warm in the chilly, night air. Pulling the beanie lower on his head, he watched the various residents leave and enter the complex at this time. He always made it a job of his to learn his neighbors so he'd separate the poverty-stricken from the ones who just got out of jail, and know who to keep away from.

Quinn's Sedan pulled up and he hopped in. Dave's Steakhouse was some distance away so the silence in the car had enough time to become uncomfortable. It got to Quinn first.

"You and Blaine had a fight?" she asked and Kurt's head snapped towards her from gazing out the window. She glanced over at him then focused on the road.

There was no use in lying so he nodded. "How'd you know?"

She laughed. "Heard you two arguing while passing the bathroom. Something about a guidance counselor?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "I got a slushie facial and Blaine happened to see. He got all upset about it and wanted to help me so I told him not too." He inhaled the smoke. "Just a mini-fight. I'm sure by tomorrow we'll forget about it."

"Just don't get yourself in too deep, okay? You have enough trouble on your hands." She took a sharp corner and swung again into Dave's car park. They got out and Kurt cursed into the night air, wishing he had brought a jacket. He stomped the cigarette with his boot and together he and Quinn went to the front of the restaurant.

"One more thing," Quinn said with a tight grip on his arm. "Try not to talk about Blaine in front of the others, 'kay? They're kinda closing in on us." His face measured surprise. If they were trying to close him off, he would understand, but not the leader too. He looked at the black ballet skirt, peach cashmere sweater with the ballet flats and her pretty hair in a high ponytail. In another life, Kurt thought, Quinn would have been beautiful.

The doors swung open. Steak and beer was naturally the predominant smell in the restaurant. On the left was the bar where each seat was already occupied by groups of hardback men in flannel shirts and goatees. To the right was the dining area where men who couldn't fit at the bar resided and women in high boots and midriff tops sat or danced on their laps. In the back was the kitchen from where waitresses on roller blades flowed back and forth through. A jukebox blasted Tim McGraw's Friday Night Lights, even on a Monday.

A hand waving vigorously in the air towards the back caught Kurt and Quinn's attention. The Mack was waving and screaming at them from atop her boyfriend's lap. Her body blocked him so Kurt couldn't make any assumptions yet. When they drew closer, Sheila and Ronnie were whispering in the corner but stopped when they saw the pair. There were six beer bottles already empty on the table and Kurt had no doubt the The Mack had drunk at least two of those.

"Hey guys!" she greeted then slid off her boyfriend's lap. Kurt was caught unawares. The trucker was half the age he was thinking of and was actually good looking. He looked to be in his late-twenties, early-thirties with a patch of black beard and light moustache, a wide forehead and black hair swept back naturally. His eyes crinkled as he smiled and he held out a veined arm for Kurt to shake. He took it, forgetting to smile and sat down next to Sheila. Quinn squished him in so the six of them were facing each other.

"This is Avery, you could call him Ave," The Mack said loudly. "Ave, tell my friends a bit about yourself. They already don't trust me on getting a good boyfriend." She laughed and hiccupped. Kurt studied the bottles on the table and saw one was by Sheila, two by Ronnie and another two by Ave. Only one was in front of The Mack which meant she was pretending to be drunker than she really was. The Mack was nervous for some strange reason. He glanced over at Quinn who had made the conclusion already. And Kurt thought he was good.

"I'm thirty-one, I'm a trucker on I-95, met The Mack at a pit-stop in Caldertown and we hit it off from there." He smiled but his lips were too tight and his eyes too harsh.

"Aaaannddd he's pursuing a degree in Criminology!" she boasted. "So yes, he finished high school." Her words weren't slurring as a drunken girl's would. The façade was slipping. There were more nerves.

"When are we gonna start eating?" Ronnie asked. Everyone looked at her and laughed, including Quinn, so Kurt went along. They ordered a large platter of Cowboy Ribeye – some sort of steak Kurt never heard off – and a cocktail for each person. Kurt took a Godfather, because of the name.

The conversation continued with The Mack gradually getting sober. Kurt kept his head down and when Ave wasn't looking, glanced at the man to pick up things about his personality. But Ave was stiff, smiling when necessary, talking when necessary and never taking his eyes off his girlfriend. Maybe if he overanalyzed the last one he could say that Ave was overprotective, but that was wildly guessing and Kurt preferred to be certain.

When boredom hit, his mind strayed and he thought about the fight with Blaine again. He would definitely go apologize tomorrow because truthfully, it was eating him up. And Blaine's final words were too confusing for him to make much of it. The brunette was bullied, he surmised, but it couldn't have been in that preppy school. This meant he had been in a public school at first, transferred to Dalton and then his dad had shepherded him into McKinley.

The apology wouldn't be grand since Kurt never did well with those. A simple "I'm sorry" would get things going and then they could restart their early morning meetings, on Mondays and Fridays, at the Lima Bean. It was nice going to the coffee shop and not having to spend his money. After the fight had died down, maybe he would ask Blaine to pick him up every day for a cup of coffee. That'd be nice. Unconsciously, he smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" Quinn asked. He shook his head and she knew.

The platter arrived along with their cocktails. They each had to give a toast and in the end, Sheila's was the best.

"To hot sex and wild nights!" they hollered and knocked their glasses. Some drinks spilled but Kurt couldn't mind less because his tongue was itching to taste the fire. It was thick and strong and hard to swallow but he made it. Four rounds later and all of them were shit drunk. The jukebox switched from country music to a smash of techno and dub step. The beats pulsed in his chest.

The energy of the people around him vibrated and resonated and he felt it starting to bubble up inside him. The vitality was streams of colors of purple and pink and yellow and they all merged in the center of the restaurant where the waitresses were clearing the tables to make a dance floor, already pooling with people. He felt his head bobbing, and then his body moving in the seat and when he looked at his friends the same effect had captured them. The colors called to him and the dancing people seemed to beckon him even further. He finished the rest of Sheila's Godfather - or maybe it was a Bloody Mary since everything tasted the same to him - and followed his blue streak towards the heart of the dance floor. He lost himself in the spectrum.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings: drug use**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Rachel and Finn started the pestering first on the Thursday in Glee club, the beginning of a long line of Blaine's harassment. When Mr. Schue had entered, she asked him permission to announce something to the club. She stood in front of them and stared directly at Blaine.

"Blaine," she started, "the Glee club is a bit concerned about your behavior yesterday morning in the hallways." She cleared her throat. "Sam said that he saw you and Kurt Hummel holding hands and smiling and talking with each other-"

"Why can't I do that?" Blaine instantly went on the defense. The way Rachel spoke of it in utter disgust angered him. "Kurt's a really nice guy, if you talk to him."

She grimaced. "But he's a part of the _Skanks_ Blaine! Do you even know who they are?"

"Punk-rock crazy ass emos, is what," Puck finished. "Unfortunately we lost two of us to them and don't get me wrong, Anderson - they're definitely _not_ a study group."

Blaine sighed. "You guys wouldn't-"

"It's a trick, Blaine," Finn said. "They do these kind of recruiting things where they prey on people and try to get them to join them. I know this because Ronnie, one of their members, tried to recruit me once." Blaine remained silent to let him continue. "I was failing in everything and I didn't really know what else to do. Ronnie took the opportunity and offered me some weed, saying that it'll help me in my studies. But she didn't call it weed - she called it Cannabis and said something about it opening my mind to revise..."

Rachel was looking around uncomfortably.

"I took it, of course," Finn continued. "I aced the Math test I had that morning, plus the Spanish I had in the afternoon." Then he added as a side note. "Sorry Mr. Schue. I lied about studying." Mr. Schue shrugged like if he was expecting it. "Anyways, I had a whole lotta exams coming up in two weeks so I went to Ronnie to ask her to get me some more. She told me that I couldn't get any unless I proved myself worthy enough."

It was hard to believe a story when told from the point of view of Finn, but Blaine was polite and didn't interrupt. "I asked her what I had to do. She said just to get some piercings; some tats and dress in all black. I'm not really a fan of piercings or wearing black or...tattoos. So I asked her if there was anything else. Then she told me if I slept with her-"

"Okay I don't think Blaine needs to know about all that!" Rachel said in a shaky voice. "The moral of the story is: Kurt's on a mission to recruit you in his awful group and if you keep going out with him you're just making things easier."

But Blaine had already made his mind. They had proof about Ronnie but not about Kurt. He was about to say that when Rachel stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Before you say anything, Finn and I have a song for you that would hopefully change your mind." Finn got up from his seat to join her as Rachel took center stage. "It's called-"

"Listen guys," Blaine interjected. "Thanks a lot for the advice but I don't want to judge Kurt because of what you guys say. It's only been about three weeks since we started talking." He didn't dare say "dating" for them to throw a fit. "Call it naïve but I think I like him." He smiled at the thought. "If he tries to get me into his group, I'll tell you guys and you can say 'I told you so' how much ever times you want. Okay?" The Glee members all looked downcast. "I have to go home now and complete a...Chemistry project."

He picked up his bag and went to find Kurt instead.

As usual they were behind the bleachers but Quinn was the only one smoking. Dressed in a fitted, plaid Polo shirt and a bow-tie with brown slacks, he looked completely out of place among them - like a rainbow in a dark, cloudy sky. They barely gave him a second glance but Blaine could have sworn he saw them smile a little.

He found Kurt sprawled out on the couch with a hat over his face. He appeared to be sleeping but one of the girls nudged him and he sat up. When he saw Blaine he was slightly confused but smirked all the same.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Kurt said, his voice groggy as though he had been napping there for hours. He got up and dug in his pocket then took out a cigarette. "Do you mind?" Blaine told him it was alright and Kurt lit up. "What brings you?"

Blaine furrowed his brows. "Glee members kept harassing me about hanging out with you just now. I left them before they could annoy me with songs."

Kurt huffed. "What did they say?"

Blaine glanced at the listening members and changed his mind about telling the truth. "Nothing important. Just that you guys were bad news."

"Can't lie about that," another girl said and they all laughed. Blaine didn't know if to smile or not.

"So are you gonna stop talking to me?" Kurt asked. He inhaled deeply, his eyes trained on Blaine. When he smoked, Blaine had to admit that Kurt looked a bit sexy.

"No! Of course not. I told them I'd like to judge you myself."

Kurt's smile was mischievous. "Well since you're here already, common courtesy says I have to introduce you to my friends." He pointed to the black girl who had the ends of her hair dyed red and wore a light brown fur jacket over a black tee and a pair of embroidered leggings. "That's Sheila. The mouth of the group. Don't even think about getting in a standoff with her. She'd curse you from now till next year and never run out of words."

"Got that right."

"That's The Mack. The badass of the group." The girl looked slightly Hispanic and had long, curly, dark hair with blue streaks. She had on a black cardigan over a white tank top and dark blue skinny jeans.

"Why do they call you that?" Blaine asked but regretted it because it felt rude.

The Mack answered anyways. "I like to make out with truckers at rest stops." Blaine opened his mouth, tried to find a logical reason behind this, but failed. He was close to asking "Aren't you afraid to contract an STD?" but the logic in his brain moved faster than his mouth, a very rare occasion, and he decided against it.

"She's Ronnie, the brawn of the group." Ronnie was fat and intimidating with a thin leather collar around her neck and a leather jacket. Blaine could definitely see why she was the brawn, though if she had more fat than muscle, he couldn't tell.

"And by now Glee must have told you about Quinn," Kurt concluded. She wore a long, flowing skirt of a sheer fabric and a jacket over a Tee decorated with skulls. In fact, Glee hadn't told him anything about Quinn. He had only known her name because Finn mentioned her once and when Blaine asked him who she was, he gave him a description.

_"She's tall, blonde, all legs and a killer body," he said haughtily. __Bad mistake when Rachel was sitting right next to him. Rachel had stormed out, dragging Finn by the ear._For a girl half his size, she sure seemed to control him more than was healthy.

"Nice to meet you guys," Blaine said with a cheery smile. All of them grunted a response then fell into silence. He fidgeted with his fingers.

"We'll leave you two lovers alone," Quinn thankfully announced. "Come on, girls. I think that club three blocks down is having free drinks tonight." The Skanks all hooted and followed Quinn. Now there was only Kurt and Blaine and secretly, that was how he wanted it.

"You want a smoke?" Kurt asked him, holding out his cigarette.

Blaine felt a bit adventurous so he nodded. What could one cigarette do? And he didn't want to look like a wimp in front of Kurt. So he took the cigarette, placed it between his lips and breathed in the heat and smoke. But even though he tried to inhale just a little, his lungs were too inexperienced so he ended up coughing and choking, gasping for breath. He handed Kurt back the cigarette and fanned the smoke away. The other boy was grinning impishly.

"You never tried it?" He placed it back by his lips and breathed expertly. Blaine shook his head. He was probably red-eyed and red-faced from all that coughing. "I'll teach you."

Kurt took a lungful of air, removed the cigarette from his lips without letting much smoke escape and then leaned towards Blaine. He didn't know what to expect but he allowed Kurt's lips to rest on his. His heartbeat sped up at the contact. Kurt's cold fingers pressed on his jaw to part his lips…and weirdly enough he _tasted_ the smoke as Kurt breathed out into his mouth. He inhaled and even more surprising, the smoke didn't inflame his lungs as it had done the first time.

Kurt pulled back with a slight nip and tug on Blaine's lips. He was smiling and Blaine's mouth was still open. "Good?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, but he really meant he liked Kurt doing it to him.

"Wanna do it again?" Blaine agreed enthusiastically to that. Kurt led Blaine to the sofa and they sat with their sides pressed together, not an inch of space between them. He blushed at the warmth of Kurt's body up against him and the slight tingling in his side. Kurt stared at him for a while and Blaine stared back, wondering what was going on in Kurt's head. Whatever conclusion he came too was a good one as they kept on with it, Kurt exhaling the smoke and Blaine inhaling it with childish excitement whenever their lips met. They finished one cigarette and Blaine was expecting another. Kurt caught his look and shook his head.

"I don't want to get you hooked on nicotine. It's one of the worst drugs to be addicted too."

Blaine understood but he still wanted more. He liked the feeling whenever Kurt's lips were on his. It felt dangerous and daring and so new to Blaine that he wanted to try it again and again until he got sick of it. He never smoked or drank and knowing that Kurt could introduce him to these things had him liking the idea of a relationship even more. He never knew bad was so tempting.

"I know something else we can try though that's not so bad." Kurt shot him an insidious smile. "Do you know where Lock-Holmes Park is?" Blaine nodded. "Meet me there this evening at nine pm and you'll see." Kurt leaned forward and kissed him slowly and deeply, the kind of kiss that you could keep up for hours upon hours and stirred up a storm in Blaine's stomach. They finally pulled apart and Kurt left with a peck on the cheek and a wink.

Blaine had gone home smelling like smoke and an hour past his curfew. He was lucky that his parents weren't home or else the devil in his father would have come out that night. It was four pm and his parents might return at four-thirty meaning he would have to sneak out. Exhilaration lit his body and he could only imagine the adrenaline that would race through his veins when he was actually going through with it. He took a shower and lay down on his bed grinning to himself like a fool.

* * *

Sneaking out was easier than he expected. His father was a commanding man who believed that women belonged in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant so in his delusional head it was completely natural to force his wife to come to bed the same time he did, whether she was tired or not. Blaine's mother was quiet and agreeable for all those years she had put up with the man. By quarter to nine, both of them were asleep. Blaine had tiptoed down the staircase, grateful it wasn't squeaky and out through the back door.

The cold spring air sliced clean through his jacket. He pulled it tighter around his body and breathed hot air into his hand. Even through hail Blaine would have been pleased to rendezvous with Kurt, at any given hour. He hopped over the low picket fence that ran all around his house and starting walking west to get to Lock-Holmes Park. It was a ten-minute walk. Cars zoomed past him and occasionally he came upon the custom passerby. He turned down two streets then made a sharp left to appear at a streetlight that illuminated the small children's park. It was empty but maybe as he got closer, he thought, he might see Kurt.

There were three swing sets, some monkey bars and a slide set connected to a jungle gym. In the dark, however, the structures were looming and menacing monsters with just a speck of light keeping away the shadows. Blaine headed to the jungle gym first and saw that Kurt wasn't there. The dust and grime, however, had him sneezing. He took a seat on the swing and started to propel himself but the squeaks and groans and wails with every little movement made him have second thoughts. It wouldn't do him any good if he swung and the entire set broke down on top of him.

Ten minutes passed, fifteen and Blaine was freezing his ass off. He had attempted to create heat by pacing around the small park but by now his fingernails were turning blue and his nose felt like if it was ready to fall off. He checked his phone and wanted to call but decided against it. He knew what Kurt's personality entailed and it wasn't his mission to harass him into change. Blaine started treading back to the entrance when a voice cut through the chill air.

"What's your hurry, hobbit?"

Blaine spun around and out of the shadow of the slide Kurt appeared. He was wrapped in a thick, heavily insulated jacket, a beanie and a scarf around his neck. A cigarette hung between his lips. The sight of Kurt caused things in his stomach to clench and his heart to beat in a wild, erratic pattern.

"I thought you weren't coming," Blaine said, trying not to show his relief too much. He didn't want to fall all over Kurt and scare him away.

Kurt sat down on a bar on the jungle gym and beckoned Blaine closer. "Why would I set you up?"

Suddenly, Blaine felt extremely embarrassed at his irrational thinking. Of course Kurt wouldn't set him up unless he did something wrong! He took a seat next to him and watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a Ziploc bag. In it were crushed up green leaves, two cigarettes and a lighter.

"I thought about preparing the cigarette before but I figured it would be better to show you how to make one," Kurt announced. He took out the cigarettes and handed one to Blaine. "Empty the tobacco from the cigarette so you can use it to roll the weed in." Kurt peeled off the paper and Blaine tried his best to follow, tearing it at some parts and trying to hide it so Kurt wouldn't make fun of him. His effort was of no use as he heard the boy laughing next to him. The brown substance fell out of the paper and he dusted it off his pants onto the ground.

"Then place the weed in the paper and roll it up," he continued. He divided the weed in half, handed some to Blaine and demonstrated how he rolled it with practiced ease. Blaine succeeded without spilling much and looked up at Kurt with a bright smile for approval.

Kurt patted him on the head. "Good job, hobbit." He held the lighter up in his hand and lit his bud then reached for Blaine's. Blaine watched as the fire ate at the paper and smoke trails followed in its stead. "Now, you smoke it." Kurt crushed his previous cigarette on the ground and placed the new one between his lips. He took a slow, long drag and breathed the smoke out from the corners of his mouth and his nose. Blaine did the same and managed not to cough and splutter like the last time.

Kurt was smiling at him as he smoked, like he had just accomplished some great achievement. Blaine was only doing this because the idea thrilled him in more ways than one, and doing it with Kurt had further instigated his rash decision. He wanted to try things, to stop being such a prune and waste his young life away without doing something memorable enough to tell his future children. Not that he wanted them to smoke weed, but he figured it would be an awesome tale to tell them when they were old and rational enough.

After a few moments, a blanket seemed to cover his eyes and suddenly everything was in focus and out of focus at the same time. The car parked across the street was suddenly right in front of him and the shoes on his feet seemed a mile away. He looked at his hand but when he raised it, it felt like it wasn't his hand at all. Then the world became a Ferris wheel that spun and spun so he had to close his eyes to concentrate on not passing out. His mouth suddenly felt extremely dry like he hadn't drunk anything in ten years and a craving of cinnamon sticks hit him so hard his mouth started watering; he could almost taste the cinnamon goodness.

He allowed the sensation to overtake him. All of this happened in the space of an hour and a half. Kurt was no longer next to him, or maybe he was and Blaine just couldn't see him. One moment he was as light as a feather and the next, heavy as a rock. Random bouts of laughter met his ears but from where Blaine couldn't discern.

His sense of hearing went haywire with sound coming and going like the volume on a radio being tampered with. At one point in time he saw the outline of a body next to him, the person's mouth turned up in a white smile that stretched insanely wide. But the smile disappeared and Blaine found himself in darkness.

Then all of a sudden he was flying, high above the ground and rising steadily higher and higher, his stomach churning with the height and a second later he was plummeting as fast as a rocket to the ground. His body stopped and floated an inch above the gravel. He was on the ground, lying on his face a split moment after.

He stumbled to his knees and tried to stand but wobbled on his feet. The world burst into yellow light that blinded him momentarily. He brought his hand up to shield his eyes, stumbled back and fell on his ass. Suddenly arms were hooked under his and pulling him up with extreme force.

"Come on!" the voice said but it was so soft and warbled he couldn't understand. All he knew was that someone gripped him by the arm and screaming, they ran across the ground that seemed to stretch on forever. When Blaine looked down he felt like the ground was coming up to hit him _smack_in the face. _Bad idea_ he thought. They reached a wire fence that rose so high it was just shy of touching the sky. The person next to him kept tugging his hand and Blaine watched in awe as the boy who was nothing but a black blotch to him, climbed the silver structure at one hundred miles a second. He zoomed up the fence and hopped down on the other side so effortlessly it made him think that this stranger was a superhero. Blaine found that ridiculously hilarious and doubled over guffawing at his own joke.

"Stop fucking around and climb the damn fence, Blaine!" the person screamed. Somehow the instruction cut through to him and soon he was ascending the impossibly tall fence throwing his legs over and then dropping to the ground. He didn't expect to reach the ground so quickly so when he dropped, his ankle bent in an odd direction that caused him to cry out in pain.

"…no time! I'll carry you!" His arm was lifted and thrown over a small shoulder. He was dragged away from the wire fence and gradually got to the rhythm of hopping. They walked and hopped for what felt like hours and gradually the blanket over his eyes began to peel away, layer by layer. The shirt he wore was drenched in sweat. His brain eventually understood the pavement they were hobbling on wasn't them floating over a deep abyss, the trees on the next side of the street weren't ominous creatures and that the streetlights definitely were not sparkling fairies hovering over the ground.

"K-Kurt," he mumbled. The name came to him like a piece of a dream that he thought he had forgotten.

"We're almost there," the person who must have been Kurt said. Sometime later they finally stopped and Blaine was sure his ankle was ready to fall off with how badly it was hurting. Kurt eased them down to the ground and Blaine's back hit something solid. The ground beneath was prickly and the air was cold but with Kurt resting gently beside him, it wasn't that bad.

"How much does it hurt?" Kurt asked. Blaine was ready to say "It's freakin' excruciating!" but what came out of his mouth was so unintelligible and incomprehensible it sounded like a different language.

"Still high I see. That's pretty kickass that you're lasting that long." Kurt said then laughed. Blaine liked the smell of him as they were that close – through the fog of smoke Blaine scented cinnamon and the bitter tang of coffee. He leaned closer to sniff Kurt's neck and the boy cringed then giggled.

"That tickles, idiot," he said playfully then moved away and lower down Blaine's leg. "Which ankle is it?" Blaine shook the hurt ankle – then cursed himself for his foolishness. That just made things worse.

"Ouch!" Blaine pouted.

"Is the little hobbit injured?" Kurt asked in a baby voice.

"Shut up. I don't think I'm ever gonna smoke again." His eyes were beginning to clear and now he could make out Kurt's face. Unexpectedly, Kurt pulled up Blaine's trousers to expect the damage. The cold air didn't help his swollen, red ankle one bit.

"That must hurt like fuck," Kurt commented. "How are you gonna get back home?" Kurt turned those pretty blue eyes on his, full of concern.

"It's okay," Blaine said, smiling through the discomfort. "Don't worry about me. I'll find a way." He planned on calling his parents and braving through the serious trouble he would find himself in. He didn't know what time it was but his father cherished his sleep as much as he did his job. And it wasn't as though he could call his mother and ask her to come without waking his father up. She told him everything even when Blaine begged her to keep it a secret.

"Are you sure?" Kurt pressed. "I think I should walk you home and make sure you're inside and then I'll leave."

"No, that's too much-" he protested.

"I could get Quinn to pick me up. I'll be fine." Kurt waved away the argument then busied himself with Blaine's ankle. His foot twitched when Kurt's cold fingers touched the swollen area but after a while they turned warm. His eyes studied Kurt's intense expression as he examined his ankle, drifted down to his sharp nose and finally to Kurt's pink lips where all of a sudden he was overtaken with the need to taste those lips, to remind himself how it felt against his. It was far too long since they had that intimacy and Blaine was more than willing to reclaim them.

He grabbed Kurt's hand that was touching his foot and pulled the other boy towards him. When their faces were inches apart, Kurt understood, smiled sweetly and closed the distance between them. Blaine felt a pressure from his chest lift as their lips met and slid perfectly against each other. Kurt's lips were slightly chapped and tasted a bit like smoke but it was so _Kurt _that Blaine didn't care and wanted to melt right into him. They made out under the tree for a long while, uncaring of the cold or if anyone found them because it was just the two of them, Kurt and Blaine and their fast-paced love was simply perfection.

Blaine had never felt so happy and complete in such a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings: a bit of smut, drug use**

**Before you read chapter, go listen to We Are Golden by MIKA if you don't already know the song :) **

**DISCLAIMER: The lyrics in this chapter belong to MIKA, not me. I don't own Glee either.**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Kurt was fucking high.

He knew it because he had given himself an extra couple grams, more than his usual where he could be high yet keep a level head. Eventually though he got tired of being careful and this one night he made up his mind it was the moment to indulge – he spiced up the weed with a hint of acid. He knew his head was in the clouds because with every step he took, the ground lurched up and doubled, the trees reached out with grabbing branches and the cars driving by sometimes lifted off the ground and flew. But he was running high on adrenaline and the combination was sending him to cloud nine and energy was bursting through his body till he was sure by the end of the night he would be fucking insane.

The hand he was pulling along was sweaty and constantly slipped from his palm, once or twice detaching from the body, but he gripped it tighter and they ran along. The blast of the sirens was his background music, the dirty, lone streets his setting and dodging between dark alleys and through run-down buildings with breakable locks was the current action at hand. He was the hero in the story, running away from the bad guys while he pulled the damsel in distress along behind him. The cold wind and the zooming cars and flitting stars were against him.

He made a sharp turn down a street and another up a steep, narrow hill overgrown with birch trees that almost touched each other on either side of the road. Kurt had no idea where the fuck they were but as long as he had power in his limbs and the damsel didn't slow him down, he was willing to run as far as possible until the sirens disappeared.

"Halt! This is an order from the police!" the man shouted over the megaphone for the hundredth time. Kurt heard a bubble of laughter from behind him and knew the damsel was having the time of his life.

"If you do not desist then you will be held accountable to the law!"

Blindly they ran across the street. Kurt felt a jarring pain in his side when a car that appeared out of nowhere with no headlights stopped a moment too late and almost knocked him over. No worries. The high took care of that. The driver stuck his head out the window and his mouth ran with expletives.

"Suck my cock!" he screamed back and they kept on running.

Up ahead a tall building came into view. When they got closer he realized it was an apartment building. The fire escape on the side was their advantage. They ran into the alley, their feet sloshing in puddles and paused to take a breath in the darkness. A screeching cat took off at a mad run.

Kurt crouched low and sprang up. His hands hooked on the metal ring that slithered and shifted beneath his fingers like smooth, silky ivory but he got an iron grip and using the little upper body strength he had, lifted his legs up and pulled with all his body weight. The ladder extended with a _clang_. He looked back to see Blaine sitting on a covered trash can, sweaty and red-eyed and grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Let's go," he said and Blaine got up. He climbed the ladder, his feet sometimes missing a step but his hands were steady. The noise and clatter Blaine was making behind him was sure to wake up all the residents but now wasn't the time to dwell on witnesses under the cover of night. The climb to the top was short as it was a two-story building. He passed three windows: one boarded up, another used to hang clothes out of to dry and the third was a woman sprawled on a couch smoking a cigarette.

When he got to the top, he walked over to the ventilation box and sat down so his back propped up on it. There was only one light but it was enough to brighten the area and keep them in the shadows. A moment later Blaine's bushy head appeared and his wide, honey eyes looked around for Kurt. They found him, he smiled then both of them broke off into raucous laughter.

Blaine plopped down beside him and immediately his spine turned to jelly and he collapsed with his head on Blaine's lap. He turned on his back to look up at the sky. The stars were there one moment, far, far away and the next right in front of his eyes that he could touch the illumination. Blaine's heavy breathing came out in white puffs. The sound of the siren was gone completely now meaning they could return home. But honestly, Kurt would have stayed there the entire night if he could.

They sat like statues for a long time, neither of them talking or moving and barely blinking. The silence was comfortable and in addition to the sluggish feeling from the comedown Kurt was betting Blaine couldn't move his lips either. Minutes later and Blaine's hand was running through his hair. He would have opposed it greatly but recently he had been letting Blaine's arbitrary habits slide. The touching, hugging, random kisses – all of it he took with a grain of salt. And because he ignored it, Blaine continued.

It had become a secret habit of theirs – stealing away to the park and smoking weed under the moonlight. For three weeks they continued and without a doubt, Blaine was hooked. By Kurt's insistence, he had stopped with the twenty bottles of gel and wore his hair freely to school and when they met each other. He hadn't returned to the bleachers because Kurt didn't want them too openly involved just yet. Blaine was still new and Kurt already knew he and the Skanks were bad news. It would be a good thing to have one good person on their side. Unfortunately, Kurt hadn't affected Blaine's clothing just yet.

Once though, Blaine had come to school with a leather jacket, a light grey Henley and dark blue jeans. On his feet he wore beige moccasins. Kurt was a hundred percent, positively, _completely _certain that Blaine had caught _everyone's_ attention, girls and boys alike, with his abrupt closet change. With that soft, Italian hair, puppy eyes and a light grizzle that had seemed to grow overnight, Blaine had become a total lady-killer. Even Kurt died. When he confronted the boy about his style, Blaine had been extremely upset. There had been an accident with some bleach and his colored clothes – Kurt thought of it as more of a saving grace – and he couldn't find his container of gel that morning. Add that to waking up to an unplugged alarm, all the other clothes he had requiring ironing that took time and care on the material, and having to get to first period for an important exam and Blaine had to borrow the "drab" clothes from his brother Cooper who had come to visit.

Blaine deeply suspected Cooper was behind all this and went into a full-out hypothesis of the 100 Reasons Why Cooper Anderson is Out to Get Him. Kurt had zoned out a quarter-way through the speech and inspected Blaine. Closer up he could see that the Henley was a size too big and the jeans were a bit slack but the jacket fitted him perfectly. The Armani trail he left behind turned heads. Blaine had transformed from a childish, cheeky boy to a walking Adonis. Kurt missed the way his ass printed out nicely through the extra tight pants he wore but he would take this sex god anytime, any day.

Blaine ended his speech and Kurt concluded it with a, "You're fucking sexy." It kept Blaine blushing for the rest of the day.

It only happened once. Never again.

Midway into the third week of their drug splurges, Kurt had begun to realize that the police paraded the block more often. He made note of the days – Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays – and on these days they would go behind Kurt's apartment building (if there weren't any hoodlums already in the spot) and smoke there. The fire escape was broken so the roof was off limits and Blaine's house wasn't anywhere close to an option. It was good for a while until the police pulled a dirty trick: they came on a Wednesday. This was how they ended up in this situation.

Blaine's voice cut through his meditation. "What time is it?" His head must have cleared too because his words were coherent. Kurt patted his jeans and realized he didn't have his phone.

"Shit, no phone." He hoped he left it at home and didn't lose it on the run.

Blaine frowned. The look on him was painful. Kurt reached up and with his index fingers, pushed the corner of Blaine's mouth up into a smile. "It's sometime past midnight. I'm sure your parents are still asleep."

The brunette laughed a little. "I hope so." Kurt decided it was time to leave. He rose up and instantly was met by a full-on collision of nausea and hunger and thirst all in one. His stomach couldn't tell the difference between wanting to vomit or shit and his body was abnormally swaying. It was the last time trying weed and LSD for him even if it was an amazing adventure.

"Let's go before the streets get any more dangerous," he said. Kurt was accustomed to stomaching through pain but Blaine obviously wasn't. He got up, wobbled and fell to his knees dry-heaving. Nothing came up but when he lifted his head there were tears in his eyes.

"Don't worry. It'll pass soon," Kurt said even though he didn't know how long 'soon' was. He helped him up and for five minutes they stood, trying to get reacquainted with the vertical position. When Blaine was sure he could walk without falling, they headed for the fire escape. The way down was easier and took so little time that Kurt wondered what his body was doing when they were coming up. He hopped to the ground and pushed the metal ring back up.

Kurt had no idea where the hell they were but he had a good sense of how much lefts and rights they took. He headed back the way they came and for a while they were walking on an empty road with dead grass on either sides and he had begun to panic because he couldn't remember passing in this area before. But then they passed the wrecked truck on the right side of the road that Kurt had thought was a hulking giant about to rise up and grab them. He felt himself able to breathe. Somehow along the way they ended up holding hands again.

The hill came into view but the way back from there was a hazy cloud in his memory that took time to pick apart. They stopped on the apex so Kurt could think. He leaned back against the bark of a tree and bit his lip while Blaine stood with his hands in his pockets, kicking at the dirt. The bits and pieces came back to him until he could form a complete map in his head. He looked up and down the street before choosing the path.

They cut through a track overgrown with tall grass that scratched at his hands and came out on the other side on a street lined with shack houses and rusting cars parked in wooden garages. By random he chose to turn left and when he reached the end, he saw the glowing sign of a 7-Eleven. They entered the store, the bell tinkling as the door opened.

Neither of them had any money but Kurt wanted the time so Blaine would stop being so damn worried. The cashier was leaning on the counter trying to figure out a Sudoku puzzle with glasses on the tip of his nose and his finger drumming to MIKA's _We Are Golden. _Kurt asked him the time and he told them it was minutes to two in the morning.

Kurt spun around and was going to give Blaine a pointed look but the brunette was looking at the snack aisle and mouthing the words to the song while bobbing his head. Kurt smiled and stared at him for a while, entranced by such a weird thing. Blaine noticed and looked up, embarrassed that he knew so much of the lyrics. Kurt grinned and walked over to him.

He leaned in close and put on his best British accent. "We are not what you think we are; we are _golden_. _We are golden_." Blaine's smile was radiant. He repeated the line as the lyrics did and Blaine backed him up with the rising background vocals a scale lower. They left the store singing the chorus.

_Teenage dreams in a teenage circus_

_Running around like a clown on purpose_

_Who gives a damn about the family you come from?_

_No giving up when you're young and you want some!_

High spirits were buzzing and pumping through their bodies. They harmonized on the last line and Kurt was surprised at how perfectly their voices meshed.

Blaine took off with:

_Running around again_

_Running for running_

Kurt repeated each line after he sang it, a scale higher. Then Blaine started with the verse he didn't get to sing. He was walking along backwards, singing to Kurt with these weird and cute little dance moves. His face reflected the vibrant mood of the song and he had a two-step in his walk. Kurt followed with his hands clasped behind him and a grin that he couldn't wipe off his own face.

Blaine reached the bridge and Kurt tested out their voices again. Key for key, pitch for pitch, they complimented each other perfectly.

_Now I'm sitting alone_

_I'm finally looking around_

_Left here on my own_

_I'm gonna hurt myself_

_Maybe losing my mind_

_I'm still wondering why_

_Had to let the world let it bleed dry_

Kurt pulled out his British accent again and then the chorus began where they went absolutely insane in the streets. There were no cars passing at this hour so they had the entire road to themselves. The vitality was contagious. They ended up directly on the white line blasting out the song at the top of their lungs and dancing a two-step jig that consisted of spontaneous hand movements and leg kicks. Power was flowing through his body. He no longer felt lethargic from the long run and even the sweat dripping down his forehead didn't stop him. They sang with passion and zeal down the street and made an old man open his window to throw a pot cover at them. Kurt flipped the man the two fingers and they kept at it.

At the end of the street they were breathless. Kurt slumped down on the ground and Blaine was bent over a railing trying to catch his breath. There was a stitch in his side and he probably dislocated his thigh from doing that high kick but he was still smiling because this was the second time that Blaine had made time feel infinite and youth appear endless.

He slowly dragged his aching body up the wall and got himself in the mindset for the long four block walk to Blaine's house. He had a mind of calling Quinn but honestly, he wanted to be alone with Blaine for a while longer since school really didn't cut it. Blaine saw his movement and got up too with a wince.

"Sorry, I don't exercise much," Blaine said.

Kurt chuckled. "Could have fooled me."

Blaine held out his hand to him and made Kurt stop to think what he should do with it. The gesture was honest and bold but Kurt wasn't familiar with that. He held it and Blaine pulled his body closer so that they were mere inches apart. He buried his hand in Kurt's hair and pulled his head back so their eyes met. He smelled like sweat and coffee; Kurt breathed it in. Blaine's eyes were warm and desperate, unable to keep off his lips. It made Kurt hope his emotionless eyes showed the same thing or at least a fraction of it. Blaine's grip tightened and then he angled his mouth over Kurt's for their lips to touch lightly. Kurt took the cue and pushed forward and took Blaine's bottom lip in his mouth. They kissed like that for a long time until Kurt's impatience reached a point and he pushed his tongue into Blaine's mouth to deepen the kiss. Blaine groaned when their tongues made contact and the grip on his hair was getting painful but Kurt welcomed the pleasure-pain because it made it even more real.

The length of the kiss was immeasurable but the desire was undeniable. Kurt wanted Blaine and Blaine wanted Kurt; simple as that. Kurt had dropped enough signs but either Blaine was confused or he didn't know how to act on it. He wanted more but Blaine required patience – patience Kurt didn't have. The Skanks were pressuring him because supplies had completely finished and withdrawal symptoms were starting to kick in, although they were vastly exaggerated. He needed Blaine's help but it was hard to remember his mission when he was enjoying himself immensely. He had a plan.

Pulling Blaine he backed them up to the wall of the building then flipped them over so Kurt was pressing Blaine in. The hand in his hair fell and both hands went to his hips. Kurt placed his hands on Blaine's chest and pulled away to trail warm kisses on his neck. Blaine tilted his head so Kurt could get a better angle. He licked and sucked, bit and nipped till Blaine's neck was a mess of red splotches. His hands wandered down his chest, lower and lower then went around to the back to roam over Blaine's ass. The brunette seemed to try to pull away so Kurt started kissing him again as a distraction. He squeezed and Blaine's hips automatically thrust forward to grind on Kurt's. He grinded back and felt Blaine's erection. Blaine was shy at first but eventually they set an easy rhythm of rutting against each other. Kurt returned to Blaine's neck so he could hear the soft moans escaping from his lips. Blaine's hands were gripping the back of his shirt, his face flushed and lips parted slightly. Kurt loved that look. The heat increased and Blaine's hips broke the rhythm to a rapid beat that signaled he was close. As soon as he reached the edge, Kurt pulled back wickedly.

Blaine's eyes flew open and his eyebrows drew down in confusion. Kurt grinned but Blaine took the bait in the space of a heartbeat. He reached for Kurt's hips and continued where they left off, his thrusts frenzied and frantic because he was _that _close. Kurt could feel it too and in a matter of seconds he was gripping Blaine's biceps and biting into his shoulder to keep back his scream as he came in his pants. The pain on his hips from Blaine's fingers was dulled by the climax and he felt Blaine's shuddering body. His moan was soft, muffled by Kurt's hoodie. His body was still twitching and it took one long, shaky exhale to stop the shivers. The come in his pants was warm but cooled too quickly to an uncomfortable, sticky mess. He needed to get home and change and he bet Blaine had the same thought. But right now…

Kurt pulled back and saw the content and satisfaction in Blaine's eyes, the fulfillment in his lazy smile. He rested his head on Blaine's shoulder until their breathing evened out. When he lifted his head, Blaine was the first to speak.

"Can we do that again?" he asked. Kurt laughed out loud and nodded.

"Anytime you want too," he said, looking Blaine straight in the eye. Blaine's lips parted but he didn't say anything. He let a couple seconds pass before he leaned off Blaine's body and started with his request. "We have a problem though."

Blaine blinked several times before asking, "What?"

"I don't have any more weed and the money I usually save to buy it I had to use to get some groceries." He tried for an embarrassed, woe-is-me look by looking anywhere but at Blaine.

He fell for it. "That's not good. How much do you need?" Kurt looked up and wasn't expecting actual concern in those adorable brown eyes that looked surreally golden in the light.

He thought up a figure. "About three hundred dollars, but you really don't have too. I'll be able to get the money in about two months' time."

Blaine shook his head. "I can't believe I'm saying this but I really don't want to go that long without weed." He chuckled. "I'll give you five hundred then. Is that enough?"

More than enough. "Blaine, no. Even two hundred is fine. You don't need to-"

Blaine silenced him with a finger on his lip. "I'm giving you the five hundred whether you want me too or not. Think about it as stocking up."

Kurt had to pinch his leg to stop from smiling. He was still pulling the pity act so he sighed heavily. "Would your parents mind?"

Blaine shrugged. "They could care less. Five hundred dollars is nothing to them."

Kurt pouted. "How rich _are_ you?" Blaine only smiled. "Let's get you back home, then."

He nodded and held out his hand for Kurt again but this time, Kurt was prepared. He took it without hesitation and they walked the five blocks, then a very much awake Quinn picked him up and dropped him home. He was grateful that she didn't ask any questions but he would drop the news tomorrow. The five hundred dollars was stuffed deeply in his jeans' pocket.


	8. Chapter 8

**Haven't updated this in a while but while going through my cryptically named documents I discovered this :O I hope it satisfies :) Tell me in a review.**

**Warnings: actually, none**

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**Chapter Eight**

Peter had come home a little less drunk that night while Kurt was washing the dishes. He walked into the kitchen, leaned up against the counter and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He sipped it once, twice, his daunting eyes locked on Kurt. He could feel the gaze piercing into the back of his head but he wouldn't dare turn around. For a fleeting moment he thought back to a week ago when he and Blaine had their escapade from the police and that maybe the police had somehow gotten a glimpse of their faces and matched them. Then they had called Peter and told him all about his "disobedient nephew" and it's to "lock him in a cell and throw away the key" and he would have _surely _had the shit beaten out of him.

A second later Peter cleared his throat, Kurt heard the _clink _of the empty glass on the counter and he talked. "I have to borrow one of your suits for tomorrow morning at eleven." He didn't even ask permission but knew that Kurt had no choice but to acquiesce.

"Why?" Kurt asked, rubbing vigorously at a stubborn spot on a plate.

"I have an interview for a job and I… I don't have anything to wear," he replied. The last bit was forced through gritted teeth and Kurt almost didn't hear it. He allowed himself a satisfactory grin before turning around.

"Sure. I'm not too sure it would fit though." He looked Peter over, noting the length and width of his torso. The shirt would have been two inches too tight and the arms a little short but his stomach was flat – Peter, just as his sister, had inherited the skinny gene where he could drink and eat how much he wanted too and never put on weight – so it mightn't be too bad. "The slacks were too long on me so they'll definitely fit you and the dress shoes were my dad's anyways because I'd never buy something so hideous-" He swallowed. Hard. "I'll just go get it."

He hurried into his room and dug around in his closet until he found what he was looking for. When he left the room he found Peter had relocated to the sofa with the entire bottle of whiskey. Kurt presented the clothes and Peter looked them over: he tugged at the arms; passed his hands down the pants then gave it a sniff.

He wrinkled his nose. "It needs washing."

"Of course it does." Kurt rolled his eyes. "I haven't worn it since…" …his grandfather's funeral two years ago. Quickly, he glanced away. Yeah, life had decided to fuck him ten times over and take his grandfather too, his only remaining grandparent. It left him with no one.

Peter mumbled something that sounded so very similar to "Sorry" that it made Kurt want to do a double take on impulse but when he glanced back Peter's eyes were measuring the amount of whiskey remaining –and no doubt not being able to see because he'd gotten himself shit-faced drunk again – so Kurt blew it over as an unintelligible slur from an intoxicated tongue.

He went on his laptop – a Dell mini – and looked up the nearest laundromat in Lima. He found one but the prices were ridiculous so he chose his next option. Even though the laundromat was cheap Kurt wouldn't have even bothered once he had an excuse to see Blaine. He felt like face-palming and berated himself on getting clingy. He had to stay away from Blaine for a while to not get his heart too attached but he found it increasingly more difficult to ignore the little half-Italian.

He went to sleep and when he woke up he left the house at nine am. Before he called Blaine to see if he was up and after hearing the cheery 'Hello' he had a feeling Blaine was a morning person. Kurt didn't get along very well with morning people. Peter was sleeping in late but he planned to return by ten am to get the man up, filled with food and hopefully sober. Kurt prayed that Peter would stay away from the alcohol just for today or at least until after the interview and just in case God didn't hear him, he took the two bottles of tequila from the cupboard with him. Maybe he could get Blaine drunk, who knew. If a high Blaine was so much fun to be around… Kurt smiled to himself.

He left the apartment in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. The morning was cold as usual as the sun had avoided Ohio yet again. Blaine's house was two blocks over, within perfect walking distance. He headed over with the interview clothes and some of his own laundry. The machine that the ten rooms of the apartment building shared was out of order most of the time and Kurt had done his laundry at Quinn's house. Now he could do it at Blaine's and truthfully he was glad to be away from the bright clothes Quinn wore in front of her Barbie doll mother and her father with the bad Botox.

He turned onto Rivera Street and walked up to the third house on the left. It was a three-story cream and blue house with two wings and a low picket fence surrounding it. The lawn was plush and green and up against the front of the house were perfectly grown delphiniums and tulips. Blaine's parents didn't own cars – instead they had private cabs that came to pick them up and drop them wherever they wanted at any given time. Kurt would love to live his life in such luxury even though Blaine seemed bored by all of it.

He walked around the side of the house, jumped over the fence then searched around for a pebble. He found one and threw it at the window on the right of the second floor. The pane opened and a head of bushy hair poked through. Blaine's white teeth gleamed even at that height. A minute later he threw a make-shift sheet ladder out the window. Kurt hooked the bag on his shoulder, gave the ladder a tug to ensure it was firm and then scaled the wall of the house. When he reached the top Blaine helped him in then they fell on his bed into a heap of tangled limbs and fierce kisses. Blaine's hands had begun wandering more and now they gripped and kneaded Kurt's ass. He groaned into the kiss and rolled his hips, eliciting low moans from the both of them. Kurt nipped at Blaine's lips before pulling back. The brunette shot him the kicked puppy look.

Kurt wagged his finger. "I don't have a lot of time today. I need to get these things washed but I promise after eleven I'll come back." Blaine sighed heavily, looking down at his erection then looking at the bulge in Kurt's pants. He looked up into Kurt's eyes and raised a brow. "Nope, not falling for it again." He threw the bag at Blaine who took it with a groan.

"Fine," Blaine said. "How long do you want me to put it for?"

"Wash for thirty and dry for fifteen. By the way, do you have a light blue tie I could borrow?"

Blaine nodded and disappeared into his walk-in closet. Kurt walked over to the mini-fridge and saw a panino and an orange juice. He heated it up in the microwave above the fridge then plopped himself onto the sofa to watch some TV. Blaine's room was about two thirds the size of his apartment and had more things than Kurt's did. He wasn't jealous but more in awe of it. Blaine came out of the closet and tossed him a sky blue with white stripes.

"Thanks," Kurt said. Blaine left the room and returned moments later. He sat down next to Kurt and they watched TV. It didn't last long. Soon Kurt was on top Blaine again with desperate tongues and wandering hands and a burning desire part lust, part passion. Blaine's hands unzipped Kurt's hoodie and pushed up the vest underneath to reveal the pale, smooth skin. By now Kurt had trusted Blaine's eyes with the view of his body from the waist up and in turn, Blaine had trusted him just as equally. Kurt shucked Blaine's shirt and his mouth latched onto the brunette's neck. Blaine keened and thrust his hips upward to meet Kurt's, rolling them to relieve the pressure and create that delicious friction. They rutted until they came then did it a second time.

By the time they were finished they were down to their boxers and Blaine's had ridden so low his grey briefs and the stain from his cum were visible. Kurt was suspended over him and both were breathing heavily. He grinned and Blaine did too then they laughed until they realized there wasn't enough breath to do so just yet. Kurt collapsed and felt a measure of comfort as Blaine's arms wrapped around him. The thirty minutes was up meaning one or the other had to disentangle first so Blaine could go put the clothes in the dryer. But Kurt was so comfortable and satisfied that leaving Blaine's arms would just ruin the atmosphere. He had a fleeting thought of just lying there and screwing Peter over but the logical part of his brain appeared.

Kurt peeled his sweaty chest off Blaine's and looked into those upset, brown eyes. "Sorry but my uncle is waiting on me." Blaine nodded, seemingly understanding, redressed then left. Kurt went into the bathroom to clean up as much of the dried cum as possible. He realized it was a lost cause trying to wipe it off with a wet towel. He went back into the room and opened the top drawer of the dresser next to Blaine's bed, pulled out a pair of expensive David Beckham briefs and ran back into the bathroom to change into it. When he was finished Blaine had already returned. The smooth, soft satin did wonders as it slid across his skin, he noted with a satisfied smirk. He wondered when Blaine would notice it went missing or if among the other expensive briefs, he would notice at all.

Kurt pushed Blaine back on his bed and it was Blaine's turn to be the little spoon. Kurt buried his nose in the soft curls and inhaled the strawberry shampoo. He nuzzled his nose in Blaine's neck, wrapped his arm tighter and like that they stayed.

Blaine didn't know but Kurt needed this kind of stability sometimes. The Skanks had provided it for a while but eventually the weed and coke wasn't enough to distract him, to allow him to escape because the high, the imagined invincibility, ended too soon. Blaine was here for as long as Kurt was willing to keep the relationship and Kurt liked the fact that he didn't have to be so reliant on things although he was pretty darn sure he had already given Blaine a piece of his soul or heart or whatever it was for safe-keeping. Kurt had tried to convince himself that if Blaine left, things would return to normal and he would move on. The truth was that it would actually take some time to move on. A longer time than he anticipated.

Fifteen minutes passed with Kurt playing with a curl that had caught his attention and Blaine falling asleep on himself. Kurt regretfully shook him fully awake. Blaine moved like a zombie, rolling off of bed and shuffling to the door. He disappeared and left Kurt to think.

He wondered what would happen if Peter got turned down for the interview – it had happened countless times before until he had fallen into a drunken stupor (he used to drink before that) and never woke up – and what the aftermath would mean for him. He cringed at the memories of a split lip and swollen jaw and planted a firm reminder in his brain to make sure the lock in his bedroom was working this time around. Kurt wasn't stupid. He knew what Peter did to him when he was upset was considered abuse. The only problem was that he wasn't willing to end up as property of the state and put in a home with worse teens like him. He preferred to always have a stocked first-aid kit and learn off the signs of an injured organ or broken rib more than anything else.

Then, a startling realization struck him. _Peter_ was going for an _interview_. _Peter _who hadn't been sober in fourteen years was actually… oh, God. Kurt face-palmed. He knew the saying "Once a man, twice a child" but he didn't think it would have referred to stringent alcoholics as well. He took off thirty minutes, then forty, and realized that to prepare Peter for an interview in two hours would require more than twenty-four. He tried to run through a list in his head of bits of advice to give the man but realized there were too many for a social train wreck such as Peter. Kurt only had hope on his side and even she could be a bitch.

Blaine returned with the freshly washed clothes in an Abercrombie and Fitch shopping bag and two apples. He gave one to Kurt who only then realized he had skipped breakfast and the panino wasn't very filling because Blaine had already eaten half of it. He took the bag with a thank you then got ready to scale the wall again. As he was about to say goodbye he noticed Blaine's tight smile and twitching hands.

"Something's bothering you," Kurt said. "I thought I told you to tell me whenever something's up."

Blaine shook his head but gave in. "My parents are being…overwhelming again."

"You mean they're pissing you off," Kurt corrected.

Blaine looked up and gave one nod of his head. "I got a C+ on my Math exam and my dad sort of flipped. He's been nagging me about it all week and going on about how Cooper always got straight A's and I-"

Kurt silenced him with a tender kiss because he had begun to notice the desperation in Blaine's eyes and the lost tone of his voice and to him that was the only way to get rid of the anxiety that was partly affecting him too. "It's okay, Blaine. Whatever awful things he's telling you just don't believe him. Ignore him if you can. Makes things a whole lot easier, I know."

Blaine exhaled shakily. "He's quite…assertive in his comments but I'll try."

"You know what you need to do? You need to get away for a while."

The brunette beamed. "I had the same idea. Are you free next weekend?" The excitement wasn't very hard to miss.

"Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"Do you ride?" Blaine asked.

"Cocks, yes," he said then slapped his hand over his mouth. For a moment he was back with the Skanks and giving his usual snarky reply. He looked up to Blaine who was a cross between smiling and grimacing.

"Did I scare you?" Kurt dared to ask.

Blaine said, "A little, yeah." Then they laughed it off and the tension disappeared. "My family owns this equestrian center in Saint Barbara. We should go for a weekend." Kurt bit back a sarcastic remark about Blaine's wealth and instead chose to see deeper into what Blaine said. It was a date. They hadn't had many of those – unless the coffee meetings weed smoking counted. Kurt wasn't complaining.

"That sounds perfect," Kurt said and Blaine seemed to relax.

"I'll call you with the details." He leaned forward and pecked Kurt on the cheek. "Tomorrow for coffee?" Kurt thought about it and realized that whatever would go down with Peter that afternoon he would need it.

"Definitely." He went over to the sheet ladder and threw it down the side from where it lay curled up on the floor. "One more thing. Can you whip me up a panino real quick?"

"There's an extra in the fridge in the kitchen. Hold on." Blaine went downstairs and gave Kurt the time to grab another pair of briefs. These things were damn comfortable. He came back up panting. "I really need to exercise."

"Let's put that on our To-Do List then," Kurt said smiling and took the panino wrapped in foil. He placed it in the bag with the lavender-scented clothes and hooked it over his shoulder. With a little wave he hopped back down the wall. He landed softly on the ground, looked left and right and then disappeared around the back. The route was longer but it covered his tracks.

By the time he reached home it was quarter past ten and Peter was lounging on the sofa watching the local news.

"I got your stuff," Kurt announced. Peter grunted. "You should start getting ready from now so you won't be late." The man glared at Kurt as though he just asked Peter to go on an errand. But he got up and without a drunken gait – Kurt's eyes widened at that – he went into the bathroom to shower. When he came back out Peter looked no less dirty and Kurt decided it was the shaggy hair and the unkempt beard.

"This is definitely going to take a while," Kurt said then went to fetch the cordless razor. He pulled a chair from the dining table and instructed Peter to sit on it. He found some shaving cream and proceeded to make the best of a five o'clock shadow from the facial hair. In the end he had to shave it all off.

The hair was easier as all it needed was a light graze on top. Kurt combed it up so it would look a little neater. He pulled back to see how well he had done. Without the beard and with the tamed hair it took off five years from Peter but not enough to conceal the decade of alcohol abuse. Kurt shrugged. At least he could say he tried his best.

He lent Peter his Axe spray-on deodorant and some cologne. He left Peter to put on his own clothes but discovered that he had to spoon-feed the man. He made Peter take off his pants – at least he had remembered to put on briefs – and tuck his shirt into them. Kurt cringed at the sight of his legs and had to turn around. Then they put back on the slacks and Kurt had to tie the tie for him because Peter had forgotten how. He put the jacket over then he actually allowed Kurt to put some moisturizer on his face. He creamed his palms and the square-tipped shoes just needed a little dusting and it looked almost brand new.

Kurt stepped back to admire his work. It was no makeover but it helped a lot. If only Peter would stand up straighter and not have that haggard look on his face then he could subtract a few more years. It would have to do however. Now came the speech therapy.

"Tell me what you're going to say to them when you go there," Kurt said.

"Good morning. My name is Peter Harrison. Whatever question they ask me I'll answer."

"I hope this works out. Where's your résumé?"

"On the couch."

Kurt went to look and pulled out a crumpled folder wedged between the sofa cushions. Kurt groaned loudly and tried to straighten the folder as much as possible on the wall.

"I give up. How are you even getting there?"

Peter took the folder. "I hired a taxi. It's supposed to be here by quarter to." Kurt checked the time. It was quarter to eleven. He clenched his fists and breathed slowly to let the anger out.

"Let's go downstairs then." He walked out the apartment with Peter behind him. They exited the building and _thank heavens_ the cab was waiting right outside the fence. "Good luck." Peter grunted a reply and left. Kurt let the rest of his hope wither. At least he had next weekend to look forward too with Blaine.


End file.
